OF  THE 

U N I VLRS  I TY 
Of  ILLINOIS 


977.6 

VZTt 

1895 


/Vj/y^ I ^ 


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in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/threescoreyearst00vanc_0 


Gen.  Horatio  Phillips  Van  Cleve. 


Charlotte  Ouisconsin  Van  Cleve. 


“Three  Score  Years  and  Ten,” 

Life-Long  Memories 

OF 

Fort  Smelling,  Minnesota. 

AND 

OTHER  PARTS  OF  THE  WEST, 

BY 

CHARLOTTE  OUISCONSIN  VAN  CLEVE. 


THIRD  EDITION , 


COPYRIGHTED  1888. 


PRINTING  HOUSE 

Harrison  a.  Smith. 

25T  AND  259  FIRST  AVENUE  SOUTH, 
MINNEAPOLIS,  MINN. 


DEDICATION. 

“To  the  husband  of  my  youth , by  whose  side  I have  jour- 
neyed more  than  half  a century , and  whose  tender  love  has 
brightened  my  whole  life , this  book  is  dedicated 


St.  Paul,  Minnesota, 

5/5  Portland  Avenue. 
March  14,  1888. 


My  Dear  Mrs.  Van  Cleve: 

Whenever  there  is  growth  in  any  community  the  desire 
arises  to  know  something  of  what  was  in  the  beginning.  It 
was  with  no  weariness  I read  in  manuscript  the  “Reminis- 
cences” from  your  pen.  Each  chapter  contams  something  in 
connection  with  the  dawn  of  civilization  in  the  west,  which  is 
iv  or  thy  of  being  preserved.  The  incidents  related  are  stirring 
and  the  style  is  graphic.  When  I finished  the  perusal  I felt  the 
force  of  the  adage,  that  “ Truth  is  Stranger  than  Fiction As 
the  diary  of  John  Evelyn , throwing  light  upon  the  days  of 
Charles  the  Second , is  still  read,  so  I think , if  printed , your 
unaffected  narrative  will  alzvays  find  a place  in  the  private  and 
public  libraries  of  Minnesota  and  the  Western  States. 


Believe  me. 

Sincerely, 


EDWARD  D.  NEILL. 


/ 


“Three  Score  IJears  and  Ten.” 


CHAPTER  /. 


0NE  evening  long  ago,  when  this  wonderful  century, 
now  in  a vigorous  old  age,  had  just  passed  its  nine- 
teenth birthday,  in  a bright,  cheerful  sitting-room  in  the 
good  old  city  of  Hartford,  Conn.,  sat  a fair  young  matron 
beside  a cradle  in  which  lay  sleeping  a beautiful  boy  a year 
and  a half  old.  The  gentle  motion  of  her  little  slippered 
foot  on  the  rocker,  keeping  time  with  the  soft  humming  of 
a cradle  hymn  ; the  work-basket  near  by ; and  the  dainty 
needle  work  in  her  hand;  the  table  tastefully  spread  for 
two,  and  the  clear  wood  fire  in  the  old-fashioned  fire-place, 
formed  as  restful  a picture  of  domestic  peace  and  content 
as  one  could  wish  to  see. 

But  the  expectant  look  in  the  bright  blue  eyes,  uplifted 
at  each  sound,  clearly  indicated  that  some  one  was  com- 
ing who  should  round  out  this  little  circle  and  make  it 
complete. 

And  now  the  familiar  footstep  draws  near  and  the  hus- 
band and  father  enters;  she  rises  joyfully  to  meet  him,  but 
seeing  in  his  face  a look  of  grief  or  pain,  exclaims,  “What 


8 


“THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 


is  it,  dear  husband?”  He  holds  her  very  close,  but  can- 
not find  words  to  tell  her  that  which  will  cross  all  their 
cherished  plans  of  a year’s  quiet  resting  in  her  native  city; 
and  handing  her  an  official  document,  with  its  ominous 
red  seal  newly  broken,  he  watches  her  anxiously  as  she 
reads: 

Lieutenant  Nathan  Clark , U.  S.  Fifth  Infantry  : You  are 
hereby  appointed  Assistant  Commissary  of  Subsistence, 
and  will  forthwith  join  your  regiment  at  Detroit,  which  is 
under  orders  to  move  to  the  Mississippi  river  and  estab- 
lish a military  post  at  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Peters  river. 

With  respect  and  esteem, 

George  Gibson, 

Com.  Gen.  of  Subsistence. 

Twice  she  reads  this  order,  and  then,  looking  up  with  a 
smile,  says,  with  a slight  tremor  in  her  voice:  “ Is  this  all, 
beloved?  Why  should  it  so  distress  you?  You  surely  do 
not  flinch  from  duty?”  With  a perceptible  start  at  such  a 
suggestion,  the  gallant  young  soldier  replies:  “ No,  no,  my 
precious  wife;  but  this  means  separation  from  you  and  our 
boy,  for  you  cannot  venture  on  so  long  and  perilous  a jour- 
ney as  that,  and  our  separation  is  not  for  days  and  months, 
it  may  be  for  years;  how  can  I endure  it?  And  we  were 
so  happy  here  in  our  snug  little  cottage — you  in  the  midst 
of  early  friends  and  beloved  relatives,  your  childhood  com- 
panions and  associations  all  about  you;  and  I with  my 
duties  as  recruiting  officer.  We  had  reason  to  hope  and 
expect  at  least  a year  longer  of  this  life,  and  this  sudden 
blasting  of  our  hopes  seems  cruel.  Oh,  Charlotte!  how 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


9 


can  you  bear  the  thought?”  As  he  thus  poured  out  his 
heart,  her  eyes  regarded  him  with  wonder,  and  when  he 
ceased  she  drew  him  to  his  favorite  chair,  and,  seating  her- 
self on  a low  stool  beside  him,  took  his  hand  in  hers,  and, 
looking  up  at  him  through  her  tears,  said  with  ineffable 
tenderness:  “ My  own  dear  husband;  how  could  you  for  a 
moment  imagine  that  this  order  means  separation?  Could 
you  believe  that  I would  remain  here  in  comfort,  and  suf- 
fer you  to  go  alone  to  that  far-off  region  where,  if  ever, 
you  will  need  me  to  cheer  and  aid  you?  If  my  marriage 
vows  mean  anything,  they  mean  that  I am  not  to  forsake 
you  at  such  a time  as  this.  What  would  the  comforts  of 
this  dear  home,  what  the  society  of  relatives  and  friends 
be  to  me,  with  you  in  a wild  country,  in  the  midst  of  a sav- 
age people,  deprived  of  almost  everything  that  makes  life 
dear?  No,  no,  my  beloved;  where  thou  goest  I will  go; 
thy  people  shall  be  my  people;  entreat  me  not  to  leave 
thee,  or  to  refrain  from  following  after  thee,  for  naught  but 
death  shall  part  thee  and  me.” 

The  young  soldier  took  his  true,  brave  wife  to  his  heart, 
and,  holding  her  close,  exclaimed:  “ How  deep  and  sacred 
is  the  love  of  woman!  who  can  comprehend  its  entire  un- 
selfishness?” and  both  found  relief  in  blessed  tears  of  love 
and  thankfulness  which  cleared  away  all  doubts  and  anx- 
ieties and  filled  them  with  hope  and  happiness.  Over  the 
evening  meal  future  plans  were  cheerfully  discussed,  dan- 
gers and  difficulties  were  looked  bravely  in  the  face,  and 


10 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


feeling  that,  with  undying  love  for  each  other  and  entire 
trust  in  God,  they  could  meet  and  conquer  whatever  lay 
in  their  way,  these  young  people  rested  peacefully  during 
that  night,  which  had  shown  them  how  firm  was  the  bond 
which  held  them  to  each  other,  and  were  strengthened  to 
meet  the  storm  of  opposition  that  broke  upon  them  in  the 
morning  from  the  relatives  and  friends  of  the  young  wife 
and  mother. 

Preparations  were  rapidly  made;  household  goods  dis- 
posed of;  all  things  necessary  for  a long,  toilsome  journey 
packed;  heart-breaking  “good-byes”  were  spoken,  and 
the  faces  of  the  travelers  were  turned  westward. 

A wearisome  stage  journey  of  many  days  brought  them 
to  Buffalo,  where,  after  resting  a short  time,  they  em- 
barked in  schooners  for  Detroit  on  the  1st  of  May,  which 
city  they  reached  in  time  to  move  forward  with  the  regi- 
ment by  water  to  Green  Bay;  thence  in  batteaux  they  as- 
cended the  Fox  river  to  Lake  Winnebago.  Col.  Leaven- 
worth, then  in  command  of  the  regiment,  having  received 
instructions  to  conciliate  the  Indians,  and  avoid  everything 
which  might  arouse  the  opposition  of  these  owners  of  the 
soil,  determined  to  stop  at  this  point  to  hold  a council 
with  them,  and  crave  permission  to  proceed  on  their  jour- 
ney. This  being  announced  to  the  chiefs  of  the  tribe,  they 
assembled  to  hear  what  the  “white  brother”  had  to  say. 
The  day  was  beautiful;  the  troops,  all  in  full  uniform, 
“with  bayonets  glancing  in  the  sun,”  made  an  imposing 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


II 


display,  and  everything  was  done  to  render  it  a memora- 
ble and  impressive  occasion.  The  ladies  of  the  party — 
Mrs.  Leavenworth,  Mrs.  Gooding,  with  their  young  daugh- 
ters, and  Mrs.  Clark,  with  her  baby  boy — were  seated  on 
the  turf  enjoying  the  novelty  and  beauty  of  the  scene, 
when  some  Indian  women,  attracted  by  the  unusual  sight, 
drew  timidly  near  and  gazed  in  wonder  at  what  they  saw. 
One  of  the  officers,  Major  Marston,  the  wag  of  the  party  t 
learning  that  one  of  them  was  the  head  chiefs  wife,  de- 
sired to  show  her  some  distinguishing  mark  of  respect, 
and,  leading  her  into  the  group  of  ladies,  said,  with  due 
ceremony,  “This  is  the  Queen,  ladies;  make  room  for  the 
Queen;”  but  as  this  specimen  of  royalty  was  almost  too 
highly  perfumed  with  a mingled  odor  of  fish  and  musk-rat 
to  suit  the  cultivated  taste  of  her  entertainers,  they  did  not 
hail  her  advent  with  any  marked  enthusiasm. 

When  all  was  in  order,  Colonel  Leavenworth  stepped 
forth,  and,  through  an  interpreter,  formally  requested  of  the 
Chief  permission  to  pass  peaceably  through  their  country. 
The  Chief,  a very  handsome  young  brave,  advanced,  and? 
with  his  right  arm  uncovered,  said,  with  most  expressive 
gestures:  “My  brother,  do  you  see  the  calm,  blue  sky 
above  us?  Do  you  see  the  lake  that  lies  so  peacefully  at 
our  feet?  So  calm,  so  peaceful  are  our  hearts  towards 
you.  Pass  on!”  With  this  full  permission  so  gracefully 
bestowed,  after  resting  and  refreshing  themselves  among 
their  newly-made  friends,  the  troops  left  among  them  a 


12 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


liberal  supply  of  beads  and  trinkets  and  passed  on  to  that 
point  on  the  river,  least  distant  from  the  Ouisconsin,  where 
they  made  a portage,  transporting  their  boats  and  sup- 
plies, by  the  aid  of  Indians  hired  for  the  purpose,  a dis- 
tance of  a mile  and  a half.  This  was  a tedious  process, 
but  was  at  last  successfully  accomplished,  and  the  boats 
were  again  afloat  on  the  stream,  called  by  the  Indians  the 
“Nee-na-hoo-na-nink-a,”  (beautiful  little  river),  and  by  the 
whites  “Ouisconsin,”  the  French  orthography  for  what  we 
now  write  “Wisconsin.”  The  place  of  transit  from  one 
river  to  the  other  was  known  for  years  as  the  Portage. 
At  the  point  where  the  troops  made  preparations  for  cross- 
ing it  was  afterwards  built  Fort  Winnebago,  and  directly 
opposite  the  fort,  on  a pretty  knoll,  stood  for  many  years 
the  Indian  agency  occupied  for  a long  time  by  John  Kin- 
zie,  agent,  afterwards  better  known  as  one  of  the  first  own- 
ers of  Chicago,  and  Mrs.  Kinzie’s  “ Waubun,”  or  early  day, 
gives  a very  pleasant  and  reliable  account  of  that  locality 
and  the  surrounding  country.  The  point  on  the  Wiscon- 
sin where  the  re-embarkation  of  the  troops  took  place  has 
grown  into  Portage  City. 

In  spite  of  heavy  rains  and  other  discouraging  circum- 
stances, the  tedious  descent  of  the  Ouisconsin  was  at  length 
successfully  accomplished,  and  at  its  mouth  stood  old  Fort 
Crawford  and  a settlement  of  French  and  half-breeds 
called  “ Prairie  du  Chien.”  This  fort  was  simply  a rude 
barracks,  and  far  from  comfortable.  The  two  months’ 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


3 


journey  from  Buffalo  had  been  very  trying,  serious  obsta- 
cles and  hindrances  had  been  encountered  and  barely 
overcome,  but  instead  of  reaching  their  final  destination 
in  June,  as  they  confidently  expected  to  do,  the  troops  ar- 
rived at  Fort  Crawford  on  the  morning  of  the  first  day  of 
July,  worn  out  and  exhausted.  It  was  therefore  deter- 
mined to  remain  at  this  point  some  weeks  for  rest  and  re- 
newal of  strength,  before  making  the  final  plunge  into  the 
unknown  wilderness,  into  the  very  midst  of  savages,  who 
might  resist  their  progress  and  cause  them  much  trouble. 

The  transportation  of  their  supplies  had  been  attended 
with  so  much  difficulty  that,  notwithstanding  all  possible 
care,  the  pork  barrels  leaked  badly  and  the  contents  were 
rusty;  the  flour  had  been  so  exposed  to  dampness  that  for 
the  depth  of  three  inches  or  more  it  was  solid  blue  mould, 
and  there  was  no  choice  between  this  wretched  fare  and 
starvation,  for  the  miserable  country  about  the  fort  af- 
forded no  supplies. 

Just  at  this  juncture,  scarcely  an  hour  after  her  arrival, 
Mrs.  Clark’s  second  child  was  born,  and  named  Charlotte, 
for  her  mother,  to  which  was  added  by  the  officers  “Ouis- 
consin.”  When  one  calls  to  mind  all  the  care  and  com- 
forts and  luxuries  demanded  at  the  present  time  on  such 
occasions,  it  is  difficult  to  realize  how  my  mother  endured 
her  hardships,  and  when  I add  that  almost  immediately 
both  she  and  my  brother  were  seized  with  fever  and  ague, 
which  soon  exhausted  their  strength  and  made  them  very 


14 


“THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 


helpless,  it  would  seem  almost  beyond  belief  that  she 
should  survive. 

The  new-born  infant  was  entirely  deprived  of  the  nour- 
ishment nature  kindly  provides  for  incipient  humanity, 
thus  complicating  to  a great  degree  the  trials  of  that  dread- 
ful time.  My  dear  father  could  never  speak  of  that  ex- 
perience without  a shudder,  and  has  told  me,  with  much 
emotion,  how  he  scoured  the  whole  country  to  find  suita- 
ble nourishment  for  mother  and  children,  with  wretched 
success;  adding  that,  but  for  the  dear  mothers  unfailing 
courage,  her  wonderfully  hopeful  disposition  and  her  firm 
trust  in  God,  he  could  hardly  have  endured  these  heavy 
trials.  The  surgeon  of  the  regiment  at  that  time  (I  think 
his  name  was  Burns)  was  a man  of  science  and  great  skill 
in  his  profession,  but  an  inveterate  drunkard,  and  it  was 
no  uncommon  occurrence,  when  his  services  were  needed, 
to  find  him  so  stupefied  with  liquor  that  nothing  but  a lib- 
eral sousing  in  cold  water  would  fit  him  for  duty,  and  I 
imagine  that  “ soaking  the  doctor  ” became  a source  of  mer- 
riment which  may  have  diverted  their  minds  from  heavier 
trials. 

So  long  a time  must  have  elapsed  before  the  provisions 
could  have  been  officially  condemned  and  fresh  supplies 
sent  from  St.  Louis,  the  nearest  base  of  supplies,  for  red 
tape  was  more  perplexing  and  entangling  then  than  now, 
when  it  is  sent  back  and  forth  by  lightning,  that  it  was 
concluded  to  continue  the  journey  with  what  they  had, 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


15 


and  so  the  troops  moved  on,  and  the  feeble  mother,  the 
sick  child  and  the  little  “ Daughter  of  the  Regiment  ” went 
with  them. 

By  reference  to  “Neill’s  History  of  Minnesota,”  I see 
mention  made  there  of  the  arrival  of  ordnance,  provisions 
and  recruits  from  St.  Louis  before  the  departure  from 
Prairie  du  Chien,  but  am  inclined  to  believe  that  the  addi- 
tions to  the  commissariat  could  not  have  been  adequate  to 
the  needs,  as  there  was  much  suffering  for  want  of  proper 
supplies. 

When  all  was  in  readiness  the  expedition  finally  began 
the  ascent  of  the  Mississippi.  The  flotilla  was  made  up 
of  batteaux  and  keel-boats,  the  latter  having  been  fitted 
up  as  comfortably  as  possible  for  the  women  and  children, 
and  my  father  has  told  me  that,  notwithstanding  the  in- 
conveniences and  annoyances  of  such  a mode  of  traveling, 
the  hope  that  the  change  might  benefit  all,  and  the  fact 
that  they  were  making  the  last  stage  of  a very  wearisome 
journey,  inspired  them  with  fresh  courage,  and  a general 
cheerfulness  prevailed  throughout  the  command. 


CHAPTER  II 


0F  the  difficulties  and  delays  of  that  eventful  journey 
up  the  Mississippi,  few  at  the  present  day  can  form  a 
clear  conception.  The  keel-boats,  similar  in  construction 
to  a canal-boat,  were  propelled  by  poles  all  that  three  hun- 
dred miles,  in  the  following  manner:  Several  men  stood  on 
each  side  of  the  boat  on  what  was  called  a running-board, 
with  their  faces  to  the  stern,  and,  placing  their  long  poles 
on  the  river  bottom,  braced  them  against  their  shoulders 
and  pushed  hard,  walking  towards  the  stern.  Then,  de- 
taching the  poles,  they  walked  back  to  the  bow,  and  re- 
peated this  operation  hour  after  hour,  being  relieved  at 
intervals  for  rest. 

The  perfect  safety  of  this  mode  of  travel  commends  it- 
self to  those  who  are  in  no  hurry,  and  desire  to  learn  all 
about  the  windings  of  the  river  and  the  geological  and 
floral  attractions  along  its  banks. 

At  night  the  boats  were  tied  up,  camp-fires  were  lighted, 
tents  pitched,  sentinels  posted  and  everything  made  ready, 
in  case  of  an  irruption  of  Indians. 

Arriving  at  Lake  Pepin,  a few  days  were  spent  on  its 
beautiful  shores,  resting,  during  which  time  the  stores  were 
overhauled  and  rearranged  and  the  boats  regulated  and 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  1 7 

put  in  perfect  order.  The  sick  were  growing  stronger, 
and  the  little  baby  who  was  living  on  pap  made  of  musty 
flour  and  sweetened  water,  tied  up  in  a rag,  which  did  duty 
for  a patent  nursing  bottle,  grew  wonderfully,  and  bade 
fair  to  be  a marvel  of  size  and  strength. 

Sometime  in  September  the  pioneer  regiment  arrived  in 
pretty  good  condition  at — where?  No  fort,  no  settlement, 
no  regular  landing  even;  simply  at  the  mouth  of  the  St. 
Peters  river,  where  we  had  been  ordered  to  halt,  and  our 
long  march  was  ended. 

For  many  weeks  the  boats  were  our  only  shelter,  and 
the  sense  of  entire  isolation,  the  thought  that  the  nearest 
white  neighbors  were  three  hundred  miles  away,  and  that 
months  must  elapse  before  they  could  hope  to  hear  a sylla- 
ble from  home , proved,  at  times,  exceedingly  depressing 
to  these  first  settlers  in  Minnesota.  I record,  with  pleas- 
ure, what  has  been  often  told  me,  that  in  that  trying  time 
the  courage  of  the  ladies  of  the  party  did  not  fail  them, 
and  that  their  cheerful  way  of  taking  things  as  they  came 
and  making  the  best  of  them,  was  a constant  blessing  and 
source  of  strength  to  that  little  community. 

Without  loss  of  time  a space  was  cleared  very  near  the 
site  of  Mendota,  trees  were  cut  down,  a stockade  built  en- 
closing log  houses  erected  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
garrison;  everything  being  made  as  comfortable  and  se- 
cure as  the  facilities  permitted.  The  Indians  proved 
friendly  and  peaceable,  and  the  command  entered  upon 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


their  life  at  “ St.  Peters,”  as  it  was  first  called,  cheerfully 
and  hopefully.  A few  days  after  their  arrival  Colonel 
Leavenworth,  Major  Vose,  Surgeon  Purcell,  Mrs.  Captain 
Gooding  and  my  father  made  a keel-boat  trip  to  the  “ Falls 
of  St.  Anthony,”  and  were  amazed  at  the  beauty  and  gran- 
deur of  the  scene. 

A prediction  at  that  time  that  some  then  living  would 
see  these  mighty  falls  turn  the  machinery  of  the  greatest 
mills  in  the  world,  and  a great  and  beautiful  city  arise  on 
the  adjacent  shores,  would  have  been  called  a visionary 
and  impossible  dream  by  those  early  visitors  who  saw  this 
amazing  water  power  in  its  primeval  glory. 

That  first  winter  of  T9  and  ’20,  like  all  winters  in  this 
latitude,  was  very  cold,  with  heavy  snows  and  fierce  winds, 
but  there  were  many  sunshiny  days,  and  there  was  little  or 
no  complaining. 

The  quarters,  having  been  put  up  hastily,  were  not  cal- 
culated to  resist  the  severe  storms  which  at  times  raged 
with  great  violence.  Once  during  that  memorable  six 
months  the  roof  of  our  cabin  blew  off,  and  the  walls  seemed 
about  to  fall  in.  My  father,  sending  my  mother  and 
brother  to  a place  of  safety,  held  up  the  chimney  to  pre- 
vent a total  downfall;  while  the  baby,  who  had  been  pushed 
under  the  bed  in  her  cradle,  lay  there,  as  “ Sairey  Gamp  ” 
would  express  it,  “ smiling  unbeknowns,”  until  the  wind 
subsided,  when,  upon  being  drawn  out  from  her  hiding- 
place,  she  evinced  great  pleasure  at  the  commotion,  and 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


9 


seemed  to  take  it  all  as  something  designed  especially  for 
her  amusement. 

By  the  prompt  aid  of  a large  number  of  soldiers  the 
necessary  repairs  were  rapidly  made,  and  soon  all  was 
comfortable  as  before.  But  late  in  the  winter,  owing  to 
the  lack  of  proper  food,  scurvy  broke  out  among  the  sol- 
diers, and  forty  of  them  died  of  this  dreadful  disease. 
Many  more  were  affected  with  it,  and  far  removed  as  we 
were  from  all  relief  in  the  way  of  change  of  diet  or  suita- 
ble remedies,  it  was  a matter  of  great  uneasiness  and 
alarm,  as  in  the  absence  of  necessary  preventives  or  re- 
storatives medical  skill  availed  nothing. 

However,  as  soon  as  the  frost  was  sufficiently  out  of  the 
ground  to  enable  them  to  dig  it,  the  Indians  brought  in 
quantities  of  the  spignot  root,  assuring  the  surgeon  that 
would  cure  the  sick.  This  proved  entirely  efficacious. 
The  scourge  was  removed,  and  after  that  trial  passed  away 
the  command  was  peculiarly  exempt  from  sickness  of  any 
kind. 

As  soon  as  possible  gardens  were  made.  Everything 
grew  rapidly,  and  a sufficient  supply  of  vegetables  was  se- 
cured to  prevent  any  recurrence  of  the  evil. 

More  permanent  and  comfortable  quarters  were  built 
during  the  spring  at  the  beautiful  spring  on  the  fort  side 
of  the  river,  and  named  by  the  officers  “Camp  Coldwater;” 
but  before  moving  into  the  new  camp  Colonel  Leaven- 
worth was  relieved  from  the  command  by  Colonel  Josiah 


20 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN  ” 


Snelling,  who,  with  his  well-known  energy  and  prompti- 
tude, immediately  began  preparations  for  building  the  fort, 
the  site  of  which  had  been  selected  by  Colonel  Leaven- 
worth. The  saw-mill  at  “ St.  Anthony’s  Falls,”  so  long 
known  and  remembered  as  the  “Old  Government  Mill,” 
was  started  as  soon  as  practicable.  Quarries  were  opened, 
and  everything  was  done  to  facilitate  the  work,  Colonel 
Snelling  proving  himself  well  fitted  for  the  duty  assigned 
him,  and  the  spring  of  1820  was  a very  busy  one  for  the 
old  Fifth  Regiment. 

MRS.  SNELLING’s  LIFE. 

Mrs.  Abigal  Hunt  Snelling  was  born  at  Watertown, 
Mass.,  January  23d,  1797.  Her  father’s  name  was  Thomas 
Hunt,  Colonel  of  the  First  Regiment  of  Infantry,  U.  S.  A., 
stationed  then  at  Fort  Wayne,  Indiana,  to  which  place  his 
little  daughter  was  taken  when  only  six  weeks  old.  The 
journey  was  performed  on  horseback,  and  the  little  baby 
was  carried  on  a pillow,  a long,  rough  trip  for  so  young  a 
traveler,  and  clearly  indicative  of  her  subsequent  experi- 
ence. She  tells  in  her  old  age  of  a coincidence  in  her  life 
which  impressed  her  forcibly.  Her  father  died  and  was 
buried  at  Bellefontaine,  Ohio,  and  some  years  afterward 
Colonel  Snelling  was  at  this  place  with  his  family  waiting 
orders,  when  their  youngest  child,  an  infant,  named  Thomas 
Hunt,  sickened  and  died,  and  was  buried  by  the  side  of 
his  grandfather.  An  incident  in  her  eventful  life  well 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


21 


worthy  of  mention  in  a record  of  the  early  days  of  our 
State  is  that  she  gave  birth  to  the  first  white  child  born  in 
Minnesota  sixty-six  years  ago,  and  at  the  advanced  age  of 
ninety  years  she  is  alive  to  tell  of  it.  Her  ninetieth  birth- 
day was  celebrated  a few  months  ago  in  Newport,  Ken- 
tucky, where,  with  the  husband  and  children  of  a beloved 
daughter,  who  died  some  years  ago,  she  is  “ only  waiting 
till  the  shadows  are  a little  longer  grown.” 

She  has  been  blind  for  many  years,  but  otherwise  her 
faculties  are  unimpaired  and  her  health  is  excellent.  I 
should  like  to  have  seen  my  old  friend  on  that  occasion, 
but  could  only  send  a congratulatory  letter,  recalling  the 
memories  of  old  Fort  Snelling,  with  which  she  and  I am 
so  thoroughly  identified.  I am  told  she  looked  very  lovely, 
and  was  much  gratified  at  the  pleasant  surprise  her  friends 
had  prepared  for  her,  but  was  somewhat  excited,  and  was 
carefully  watched  by  her  granddaughter,  Miss  Abby  Haz- 
ard, who  takes  the  most  tender  care  of  her  precious  grand- 
mother. 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  just  about  that  time  I 
learned  through  Hon.  Fletcher  Williams,  who  has  a special 
gift  for  finding  antiquities,  that  an  old  lady  who  had  been 
a member  of  Mrs.  Snelling’s  family  at  the  fort  was  visiting 
her  grandchildren  at  West  St.  Paul.  I lost  no  time  in  call- 
ing on  her,  and  found  that  she  was  one  of  the  Swiss  refu- 
gees who  came  to  Fort  Snelling  from  the  Red  River  coun- 
try. Her  maiden  name  was  Schadiker.  She  had  married 


22 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.’ 


Sergeant  Adams,  of  the  Ordnance  Department,  whom  I 
remembered  well  as  a most  faithful  and  highly  respected 
man.  After  serving  in  the  army  many  years  at  different 
posts,  he  resigned  and  took  up  land  not  far  from  Chicago, 
near  which  city  he  made  a home  and  lived  a long  while 
very  happily,  dying  only  a year  or  two  ago  at  a very  ad- 
vanced age.  Mrs.  Adams  and  I had  a most  enjoyable  visit 
together.  She  is  in  very  comfortable  circumstances,  and 
bears  her  age  so  bravely  that  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  she 
is  seventy-seven  years  old.  She  told  me,  among  other 
things,  of  a voyage  Colonel  Snelling  and  family  made  up 
the  Mississippi,  returning  from  a visit  to  the  East.  The 
weather  was  very  rough,  and  at  Lake  Pepin,  their  boat 
having  been  wrecked,  of  course  their  provisions  and  many 
things  were  lost.  With  what  was  left  of  the  craft  they 
hugged  the  shore,  and  the  crew  made  every  effort  to  go 
forward,  but,  in  their  dismantled  condition  and  with  little 
or  nothing  to  eat,  it  was  very  discouraging  work.  She 
tells  me  that  in  this  extremity  the  men  caught  hold  of  the 
branches  of  trees  which  hung  over  the  water  and  propelled 
the  boat  forward  by  inches,  and  Mrs.  Snelling  said  to  her: 
“ Hannah,  let  us  take  hold  of  the  willows,  too,  and  pull. 
We  may  help,  if  it  is  ever  so  little,”  and  they  did  so,  pull- 
ing with  all  their  might.  She  says  she  shall  never  forget 
their  arrival  at  the  fort  at  last.  My  father  was  in  tem- 
porary command,  and,  learning  in  some  way  of  their  ap- 
proach, sent  help  to  them.  He  had  had  the  fort  illumi- 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


23 


nated  and  a Colonel’s  salute  fired  in  honor  of  the  return, 
and  finally  the  weary  ones  reached  the  old  headquarters, 
where  my  mother  had  provided  for  them  a bountiful 
repast,  and  where  they  received  so  hearty  a welcome  that 
they  soon  forgot  their  weariness  and  the  hardships  and 
perils  through  which  they  had  passed. 


Note.— Since  this  account  was  written,  my  dear  old  friend  has  gone  to  her  rest; 
she  died  at  the  home  of  her  son-in-law,  Mr.  Hzzaard.  in  Newport,  Kentucky,  Sep- 
tember 6th,  1888,  aged  91  years  and  seven  months.  She  lived  to  hear  the  “Life-long 
memories  of  Fort  Snelling”  read  to  her  by  her  loving  relatives  and  enjoyed  it 
exceedingly. 


CHAPTER  III. 


IT  seems  proper  to  record  here  the  names  of  the  officers 
at  the  post  at  this  time.  They  are  as  follows: 

Josiah  Snelling,  Colonel  Fifth  Infantry,  commanding. 

S.  Burbank,  Brevet  Major. 

David  Perry,  Captain. 

D.  Gooding,  Brevet  Captain. 

R.  A.  McCabe,  Lieutenant. 

N.  Clark,  Lieutenant. 

Joseph  Hare,  Lieutenant. 

P.  R.  Green,  Lieutenant  Acting  Adjutant. 

W.  G.  Camp,  Lieutenant  Quartermaster. 

H.  Wilkins,  Lieutenant. 

Edward  Purcell,  Surgeon. 

In  addition  to  these  I give  the  names  of  some  who  came 
afterward.  All  of  them  are  among  my  earliest  recollec- 
tions, and  I can  remember  each  by  some  peculiarity  of 
speech  or  characteristic  anecdote.  In  my  old  age  I find 
myself  dwelling  upon  these  recollections  of  my  early  years 
with  pleasure,  till  the  flight  of  time  is  forgotten,  and  in 
fancy  I am  back  again  at  the  old  fort,  a happy,  light- 
hearted, petted  child: 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


25 


Major  Hamilton. 

Captains  Russell,  Garland,  Baxley  and  Martin  Scott. 

Lieutenants  Alexander,  Hunter,  Harris,  St.  Clair  Denny 
and  Johnston. 

Major  Laurence  Taliaferro,  Indian  Agent. 

Captain  Leonard  and  Mr.  Ortley,  Sutlers. 

Lieutenant  Alexander  was  very  popular,  very  kind- 
hearted  and  genial.  A reply  of  his,  when  cornered  in  a 
discussion  at  one  time,  caused  much  merriment.  The  sub- 
ject was  bald-headed  men.  Some  one  remarked  that  those 
who  became  gray  were  seldom  bald.  Alexander  replied 
with  considerable  warmth:  “ I know  better  than  that,  for 
my  father  is  as  gray  as  a badger,  and  hasn’t  a hair  on  his 
head.” 

Lieutenant  Hunter  was  a great  favorite,  and  in  his  way 
a model  man,  always  courteous  and  attentive  to  ladies, 
and  especially  kind  and  considerate  to  the  little  ones,  but 
wonderfully  firm  and  unyielding  in  his  views,  which  pecu- 
liarity on  more  than  one  occasion  caused  him  serious  trou- 
ble. As  an  instance  of  his  persistence:  at  one  time  he 
and  Captain  Scott  determined  to  find  out  by  actual  ex- 
periment which  could  hold  out  the  longest  without  eating 
anything  whatever.  As  both  were  very  firm  in  their  de- 
terminations, the  affair  was  watched  with  great  interest. 
However,  after  two  days  Captain  Scott  surrendered  un- 
conditionally, and  it  was  generally  admitted  that  Lieuten- 
ant Hunter  would  have  perished  rather  than  yield. 


26 


“THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 


Lieutenant  St.  Clair  Denny  was  an  exceedingly  estima- 
ble young  man,  a native  of  Pittsburgh,  Pennsylvania,  a 
Christian  gentleman  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term. 
My  recollection  of  him  is  of  one  better  calculated  to  in- 
spire awe  and  respect  than  confidence.  A memorable 
event  in  his  life  was  his  marriage  with  Miss  Caroline  Ham- 
ilton,  a beautiful  girl  of  fifteen,  as  full  of  fun  and  lady-like 
mirth  as  he  was  of  dignity  and  reserve.  I can  barely  re- 
call their  going  in  sleighs  on  the  ice  to  Prairie  du  Chien 
accompanied  by  Lieutenant  Hunter  and  one  of  the  ladies, 
to  be  married,  that  being  the  nearest  point  where  the  cere- 
mony could  be  performed,  for  we  had  neither  Chaplain 
nor  Justice  of  the  Peace  at  the  new  fort.  I have  dim  re- 
collections of  the  preparation  of  the  trousseau  by  the  nim- 
ble fingers  of  the  officers’  wives,  of  the  pleasureable  ex- 
citement and  merry  chat  over  the  unusual  event,  and  of 
the  starting  off  of  the  excursion  on  that  long,  cold  ride, 
the  “ good-byes,”  the  tears,  the  smiles  and  the  blushes,  and 
of  the  hearty  welcome  home  of  the  beautiful,  happy  bride, 
and  the  proud  but  dignified  bridegroom,  and  I there  and 
then  yielded  my  fealty  to  the  sweet  child-wife,  and  always 
loved  her  as  a dear  relative.  She  was  a most  loving  wife 
and  mother,  and  some  who  read  these  records  will  call  to 
mind  her  lovely,  interesting  daughter,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Cor- 
coran, for  some  time  Postmaster  at  St.  Paul,  and  her  son 
Brooke  Denny,  whose  home,  when  the  dear  mother  passed 
away,  was  with  his  sister  in  that  city,  and  whose  gentle- 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLINC. 


27 


manly  manners  and  kindness  of  heart  won  for  him  the 
love  and  confidence  of  his  associates.  An  anecdote  of 
Lieutenant  Denny,  characteristic  of  his  precision  of  speech, 
his  perfect  self-control  under  the  most  exciting  circum- 
stances, and  his  strict  regard  to  military  etiquette,  may  be 
related  here: 

At  one  of  the  frontier  stations,  where  he  was  doing  duty 
as  Quartermaster,  he  was  in  his  office  one  day  during  a 
fearful  thunder  storm,  accompanied  with  high  wind  and 
pouring  rain,  which  threatened  to  demolish  the  building. 
Every  one  was  alarmed  for  its  safety,  and  the  whole  gar- 
rison was  in  a high  state  of  excitement.  After  the  storm 
had  subsided,  a group  of  officers  were  talking  it  over,  and 
Lieutenant  Denny,  speaking  of  it  in  his  peculiarly  meas- 
ured tones,  ended  his  remarks  with  this  climax:  “I  was 
standing  in  the  door  of  my  office  when  the  storm  was  at 
its  height,  and  it  was  so  terrible  that  I was  forced  to  turn 
and  say,  even  in  the  presence  of  my  clerk,  ‘ Bless  me!  how 
the  wind  blows!’  ” 

Any  member  of  the  old  Fifth  Regiment  can  recall  that 
remark,  for  it  became  a household  word;  but  alas!  who 
are  now  living  of  that  gallant  old  regiment?  Of  all  the 
names  recorded  in  these  annals,  I know  of  not  one  left  to 
answer  to  roll-call,  the  last  survivor,  General  David  Hun- 
ter, having  passed  away  at  an  advanced  age  only  a few 
months  ago.  The  old  Mexican  war  decimated  the  regi- 
ment, which  was  always  placed  in  positions  of  danger,  re- 


28 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


quiring  brave,  cool,  determined  men,  and  it  was  then  that 
Captain  Martin  Scott  poured  out  his  heart’s  blood  in  de- 
fense of  his  country.  Who  has  not  heard  of  him  and  liis 
indomitable  courage?  Some  of  the  most  pleasant  recol- 
lections of  my  childhood  are  associated  with  that  brave, 
true  man,  who  was  a member  of  our  family  for  many 
years,  and  was  dearly  beloved  by  us  all.  His  eccentrici- 
ties were  numerous,  but  did  no  one  any  harm,  while  his 
fondness  for  hunting,  his  love  for  his  dogs  (of  which  I can 
clearly  recall  by  name  eight  or  ten),  his  almost  incredi- 
ble skill  as  a marksman,  and  his  unvarying  success  as  a 
hunter,  made  him  the  hero  of  our  childish  admiration,  and 
won  for  him  the  reputation  of  a veritable  Nimrod.  I re- 
member very  clearly  his  habit  of  asking  my  mother  what 
and  how  much  game  she  would  like  for  the  table,  and  in- 
variably bringing  her  just  what  she  named.  He  was  an  ad- 
mirable purveyor,  and  we  lived  on  the  fat  of  the  land,  for 
there  was  no  delicacy  in  the  way  of  wild  game  which  he 
did  not,  in  its  proper  season,  bring  from  the  forest  and 
wild-wood  to  make  savory  meat  which,  like  old  Isaac,  we 
all  loved.  He  had  the  reputation  at  one  time  of  being 
parsimonious,  and  some  were  inclined  to  treat  him  coldly 
on  that  account;  but  in  time  it  was  found  that  out  of  his 
small  pay  he  maintained  his  widowed  mother  and  a lame 
sister  in  their  New  England  home,  and  that  while  niggard 
in  regard  to  his  own  personal  wants,  the  dear  ones  at  the 
old  home  were  generously  provided  for.  So,  although  at 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


29 


first  the  West  Point  graduates  were  disposed  to  treat  with 
contempt  the  Green  Mountain  boy  who  had  entered  the 
army  as  a volunteer  in  the  war  of  1812,  and  had  been  re- 
tained in  the  service,  his  sterling  qualities  and  his  dignified 
self-respect  won  for  him  finally  the  regard  of  all  who  knew 
him.  Indeed,  it  was  found  out  very  soon  that  it  would 
not  do  to  slight  or  insult  “ Scott,”  and  he  gave  some  prac- 
tical lessons  on  that  point  that  were  never  forgotten.  He 
was  a thorough-going  total  abstinence  man,  a “rara  avis” 
in  those  days.  He  seldom  drank  even  of  “the  cup  that 
cheers  and  not  inebriates,”  never  anything  stronger;  and 
my  impression  is  that  one  great  reason  for  his  extreme 
temperance  was  that  his  aim  as  a marksman  might  be  per- 
fect and  unerring.  He  did  not  marry  till  somewhat  late 
in  life,  owing  to  his  inability  to  support  a wife  in  addition 
to  the  care  of  his  mother  and  sister,  although  I have  heard 
my  father  say  to  him,  jokingly,  “Scott,  it  would  not  cost 
you  so  much  to  keep  a wife  as  it  does  to  keep  all  these 
dogs;  she’d  save  more  than  she’d  cost.  Try  it  now,  and 
take  the  word  of  one  who  knows.”  The  lady  whom  he 
finally  chose  was  a Miss  McCracken,  of  Rochester,  New 
York,  with  whom  he  lived  happily  for  some  years.  At 
the  battle  of  Cerro  Gordo  he  was  warned  to  be  more  care- 
ful of  the  bullets,  but  he  replied,  “ Never  fear;  the  bullet 
is  not  run  that  is  to  kill  Martin  Scott,”  and  almost  imme- 
diately fell  from  his  horse  pierced  to  the  heart  by  a Mex- 
ican bullet.  Knowing  that  his  wound  was  mortal,  he,  with 


30 


THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN. 


his  usual  presence  of  mind,  took  from  his  pocket  his  purse, 
containing  quite  a large  sum  of  money,  and,  handing  it  to 
a soldier  who  stood  near,  said:  “Give  that  to  my  wife.” 
And  the  brave,  true  heart  was  still  forever. 

Major  Laurence  Taliaferro  was  for  many  years  a mem- 
ber of  our  household,  and  we  all  loved  and  honored  him. 
He  was  very  entertaining  in  conversation  and  full  of  anec- 
dotes of  Virginia,  which  was  his  boyhood’s  home.  His 
father  owned  many  slaves,  and  when  he,  as  a student  in 
an  Eastern  college,  was  home  for  vacation,  he  delighted 
to  amaze  the  negro  boys  with  his  knowledge  and  excite 
their  admiration.  On  one  occasion  he  had  been  using 
some  pretty  big  words  in  a speech  for  their  edification, 
branching  out  now  and  then  into  Greek  and  Latin  quota- 
tions, when  one  of  them,  overcome  by  his  young  master’s 
proficiency,  exclaimed:  “Oh,  Massa  Laurence;  you  larn 
so  much  since  you  done  been  to  college,  you  clar  fool.” 
He  liked  to  tell  this  story  of  himself,  and  admitted  that 
the  boy  had  good  ground  for  his  sweeping  conclusion. 
Dear  Major  Taliaferro,  our  happy-hearted,  beloved  and 
trusted  friend,  the  faithful  servant  of  the  government,  and 
humble  follower  of  Christ.  His  picture  and  an  accom- 
panying letter,  sent  me  from  his  home  in  Bedford,  Penn- 
sylvania, when  he  was  eighty-two  years  old,  are  before  me, 
and  as  I look  on  the  well-known  features,  I repeat  from  my 
heart  the  testimony  of  his  biographer:  “For  more  than 
twenty  years  an  Indian  Agent,  and  yet  an  honest  man.” 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


31 


A few  years  ago,  in  an  interview  with  Major  Joseph 
Brown,  so  well  known  to  the  early  settlers  of  Minnesota, 
he  reminded  me  of  Colonel  McNeil’s  short  stay  at  “ Fort 
St.  Anthony,”  as  it  was  first  called,  previous  to  the  arrival 
of  Colonel  Snelling,  and  of  Mrs.  McNeil,  a sister  of  Frank- 
lin Pierce,  a most  estimable  woman,  of  whom  he  spoke  in 
the  most  affectionate,  grateful  terms,  saying  that  her  kind- 
ness to  him,  a mere  boy,  and  her  wise  counsels  had  had  a 
beneficial  influence  on  his  whole  life.  He  spoke  most 
gratefully  of  all  the  ladies  at  the  post,  and  remembered 
our  Sabbath  school,  established  somewhat  later,  with  real 
pleasure.  He  went  up  the  river  with  the  regiment  as 
drummer-boy,  and  was  always  considered  a faithful,  well- 
behaved  soldier. 

His  whole  life  was  passed  in  the  Northwest.  He  was 
at  one  time  Representative  in  the  Wisconsin  Legislature, 
and  was  afterwards  appointed  Secretary  of  the  First  Leg- 
islative Assembly  of  the  Territory  of  Minnesota.  He 
died  only  a few  years  ago  at  an  advanced  age. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


IN  1821  the  regiment  moved  into  the  beautiful  new  fort, 
although  it  was  by  no  means  completed.  The  out- 
side wall  was  up  on  three  sides  only,  and  a heavy  guard 
was  stationed  on  the  fourth,  not  only  to  prevent  deser- 
tions, but  to  keep  the  Indians,  our  only  neighbors,  at  a 
respectful  distance.  The  occupation  of  the  new  and  com- 
fortable quarters  was  made  an  occasion  of  great  rejoic- 
ing, an  event  never  forgotten  by  those  who  took  part  in 
it.  Then  began  our  regular  fort  life,  the  flag-staff  was 
raised  in  front  of  headquarters,  the  stars  and  stripes  were 
run  up  at  the  roll  of  the  drum  at  “guard  mounting”  and 
lowered  with  the  same  accompaniment  at  retreat  day 
after  day,  and  we  children  learned  to  love  its  graceful 
folds  as  it  floated  on  the  breeze  and  to  feel  no  harm 
could  come  to  us  under  the  “Star  Spangled  Banner.” 

The  only  white  people  within  three  hundred  miles  were 
shut  within  that  hollow  square,  a community,  dependent 
largely  on  each  other  for  all  the  little  every-day  kind- 
nesses and  amenities  which  make  life  enjoyable,  having 
no  regular  intercourse  with  the  civilized  world,  except 
by  mail,  which  at  first  was  received  semi-annually,  after  a 
while  quarterly,  and  for  many  years  not  more  frequently 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


33 


than  bi-monthly.  For  a long  while  it  was  brought  from 
Prairie  du  Chien  by  an  Indian  on  a pony,  and  there  is  no 
record  of  any  unfaithfulness  on  the  part  of  our  dusky  car- 
rier. But  those  who  enjoy  daily  mails  know  little  of  the 
excitement  and  tearful  gratitude  of  those  pioneers  at  Fort 
Snelling  when  the  announcement  was  made,  “The  mail  has 
arrived.”  Isolated  as  we  were  from  the  privileges  and 
recreations  and  distractions  of  town  or  city,  we  were 
drawn  very  closely  together,  were,  in  fact,  like  one  large 
family,  and  news  for  one  was  news  for  all.  We  really 
“shared  each  other’s  pleasures  and  wept  each  other’s 
tears,”  and  there  was  great  rejoicing  in  the  fort  over  news 
from  “ home.”  I have  in  my  possession  a collection  of 
letters  from  General  Gibson,  Commissary  General  of  Sub- 
sistence, received  by  my  father,  which  are  interesting 
relics  of  those  eventful  years  of  privation  and  hardship, 
of  which  the  soldier  of  the  present  day  can  have  but  a 
faint  conception. 

The  first  few  letters  are  directed  to  St.  Louis,  to  be  for- 
warded to  the  Fifth  Regiment,  wherever  it  might  be;  one 
or  two  are  in  regard  to  furnishing  rations  to  Indians  who 
may  visit  the  agencies  of  the  United  States  on  business  or 
otherwise,  and  authorizing  the  Commissary  to  issue  ra- 
tions to  them  on  the  requisition  of  the  Indian  agents.  I 
find  here  a letter  of  instruction  from  the  War  Department 
to  General  Gibson,  and  insert  it,  as  indicating  the  policy 
of  the  Government  in  regard  to  the  Indians: 


34 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


“Sir:  It  is  customary  for  the  Government  to  furnish  ra- 
tions to  the  Indians  who  may  visit  the  agencies  of  the 
United  States  upon  business  or  otherwise,  and  I have  to 
request  that  you  will  direct  the  officers  of  your  depart- 
ment, stationed  at  posts  in  the  vicinity  of  the  agencies  at 
Fort  Wayne,  Piqua,  Chicago,  Green  Bay  and  *Mitch-ele- 
mack-i-nack  to  issue  rations  on  the  returns  and  requisi- 
tions of  the  Indian  agents  at  those  places.  The  requisi- 
tions in  every  case  must  be  accompanied  by  a return  of 
the  number  of  Indians  to  be  furnished,  and  both  must  be 
filed  with  the  account  of  the  officer  making  the  issue  to 
obtain  a credit  for  the  amount  of  settlement. 

I am,  etc.,  J.  C.  Calhoun. 

To  Colonel  George  Gibson , Com.  Gen.  of  Subsistences 

This  letter  is  dated  August  30th,  1819,  before  the  troops 
had  reached  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Peters,  and  was  intended, 
no  doubt,  as  a guide  to  the  officers  in  their  dealing  with 
the  Indians. 

In  the  list  of  rations  to  be  issued  to  the  command,  I no- 
tice that  whisky  has  its  place,  and  in  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  this  manuscript  book,  I find  a letter  from  an  offi- 
cer of  the  army.  Captain  J.  H.  Hook,  on  duty  at  Washing- 
ton, D.  C.,  making  various  inquiries  of  my  father  relative 
to  the  condition  of  the  troops,  the  best  way  of  issuing  ra- 
tions, the  best  and  most  desirable  articles  as  rations,  the 
wastage  of  each  article,  the  precaution  to  guard  against 
wastage,  etc. 

One  inquiry  will  be  interesting,  in  the  light  of  the  pres- 
ent feeling  on  the  temperance  question:  “First — Would 


* Mackinaw. 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


35 


not,  in  your  opinion,  the  service  be  benefited  by  dispens- 
ing with  the  whisky  ration?  Second — Could  the  soldier  be 
brought  to  submit  cheerfully  to  the  privation?” 

This  suggestion  seems  to  have  been  acted  upon,  for  I 
see  a general  order  dated  May  nth,  1820,  to  the  effect 
that  “ the  President  was  authorized  to  make  such  altera- 
tions in  the  component  parts  of  the  rations  as  a due  re- 
gard to  health  and  comfort  may  require;  and  it  is  hereby 
ordered  that  hereafter  no  issues  of  whisky  will  be  made  to 
boys  under  eighteen  or  to  women  attached  to  the  army. 
In  the  case  of  soldiers  on  “extra  duty,”  each  was  to  re- 
ceive one  gill  a day,  and  I distinctly  recall  the  demijohn 
with  the  gill  cup  hanging  on  its  neck,  and  the  line  of 
“ extra  duty  men  ” who  came  up  each  morning  for  their 
perquisite.  In  those  days  there  seemed  nothing  wrong 
in  this;  but,  with  the  added  light  and  wisdom  of  sixty 
years,  all  right-minded  people  would  now  regard  it  as 
every  way  evil. 

I find  a letter  concerning  a contract  with  Joseph  Ro- 
lette, of  Prairie  du  Chien,  for  furnishing  the  troops  at 
Fort  Snelling  with  fresh  beef.  “ The  Commissary  General 
directs  that  Mr.  Rolette  shall  give  a bond  duly  signed  by 
him,  that  Colonel  Snelling  may  designate  and  transmit  it 
to  this  office,  with  the  understanding  that  the  Messrs. 
Astors,  of  New  York,  will  unite  with  him  in  the  bond.” 
In  consequence  of  some  misunderstanding,  owing  to  the 
extreme  delay  of  communicating  with  headquarters,  the 


36 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


contract  was  cancelled,  much  to  the  disappointment  of 
Mr.  Rolette.  In  examining  these  letters  of  directions 
with  regard  to  supplies  and  the  time  consumed  in  their 
transmission  from  the  seat  of  government,  my  wonder  is, 
that  the  troops  at  this  remote  station  did  not  starve  to 
death  while  waiting  for  authority  to  obtain  supplies. 
Pork,  flour,  whisky,  beans,  candles  and  salt  were  sent  from 
St.  Louis,  but,  owing  to  the  great  difficulty  of  transporta- 
tion, there  was  much  delay  and  frequent  loss  by  depreda- 
tions of  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  through  which  the 
Government  wagons  passed.  Beef  was  supplied  from 
Prairie  du  Chien,  or  some  point  nearer  than  St.  Louis. 
The  following  is  a list  of  contract  prices  of  articles  pur- 
chased at  St.  Louis: 


Pork,  per  pound,  - 

$ Cts.  Mills. 

7 i 

Whisky,  per  gallon, 

50 

Soap,  per  pound,  - 

10 

Salt,  per  bushel,  - 

2 00 

Beans  or  peas,  per  bushel, 

1 80 

Vinegar,  per  gallon, 

22 

Corn  meal,  per  pound, 

2 214 

Soon  after  the  establishment  of  the  fort,  my  father,  as 
Commissary,  was  requested  by  General  Gibson  to  learn 
by  experiment  if  wheat  could  be  raised  in  this  part  of  the 
world,  and  the  result  proving  that  it  was  a possibility,  he 
was  ordered  to  supply  the  garrison,  at  least  in  part,  with 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


37 


flour  of  their  own  raising.  A letter  bearing  date  August 
5th,  1823,  informs  him  that,  “having  learned  by  a letter 
from  Colonel  Snelling  to  the  Quartermaster  General,  dated 
April  2d,  that  a large  quantity  of  wheat  may  be  raised 
this  summer,”  the  Assistant  Commissary  of  Subsistence 
at  St.  Louis  had  been  directed  to  send  to  St.  Peters  (as 
the  fort  was  often  called)  such  tools  as  should  be  neces- 
sary to  secure  the  grain  and  manufacture  the  flour,  add- 
ing, “ if  any  flour  is  manufactured  from  the  wheat  raised, 
please  let  me  know  as  early  as  possible,  that  I may  deduct 
the  quantity  manufactured  at  the  post  from  the  quantity 
advertised  to  be  contracted  for,”  and  here  follows  the  bill 
for  the  articles  ordered  for  the  purpose  specified  above: 
One  pair  burr  mill-stones,  - - $250  11 

337  pounds  plaster  of  Paris,  - 20  22 

Two  dozen  sickles,  at  $9,  - - 18  00 


£288  33 

This,  then,  was  the  outfit  for  the  first  flour  mill  in  that 
part  of  the  great  Northwest  which  was  to  be  named  “ Min- 
nesota” in  later  years,  and  to  become  the  greatest  flour 
manufactory  in  the  world.  Remembering  clearly  the 
great  complaint  of  the  destruction  of  grain  by  black  birds, 
I cannot  think  that  the  amount  of  wheat  raised  ever  made 
the  command  independent  of  outside  suppli-es;  but,  hav- 
ing played  around  the  old  mill  many  times,  I know  it  was 
used  for  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  fitted  up. 


CHAPTER  V. 


SOON  after  we  took  possession  of  the  fort,  a post 
school  was  established  and  some  will  remember  the 
old  school  house  just  beyond  the  main  entrance,  which  has 
been  used  for  various  purposes,  in  later  years.  It  was 
there  we  children  assembled  day  after  day  to  learn  to 
spell  in  Webster’s  spelling  book  and  to  read  in  that  time- 
honored  volume,  of  the  “boy  who  stole  the  apples;”  of 
the  conceited  “country  milk  maid”  who  spilled  her  milk 
with  a toss  of  her  head;  and  of  the  good  “dog  Tray,”  who 
fell  into  bad  company  and  suffered  the  consequences. 

Our  teacher  was  considered  very  competent  for  his  work, 
but  was  a violent  tempered  man  and  only  maintained  his 
position  a few  years,  but  what  we  learned  then,  we  know 
now,  and  the  thorough  drill  we  received  each  day,  turned 
out  correct  spellers,  and  good  readers;  with  all  the  im- 
provements in  the  way  of  text  books  and  metnods,  I do 
not  think  the  results,  as  far  as  fundamental  education  goes, 
are  more  satisfactory  now  than  then. 

Another  of  my  earliest  recollections  is  the  Sunday 
School,  established  by  Mrs.  Colonel  Snelling  and  my 
mother.  There  was  no  Chaplain  allowed  us  then  no  Sab- 
bath service  and  these  Christian  women  felt  they  could  not 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


39 


live  or  bring  up  their  children  in  that  way.  They  there- 
fore gathered  the  children  together  on  Sabbath  afternoons 
in  the  basement  room  of  the  commanding  officer’s  quarters, 
and  held  a service,  with  the  aid  of  the  Episcopal  prayer 
book,  both  of  them  being  devout  members  of  that  branch 
of  the  church,  and  taught  the  little  ones  from  the  Bible. 
They  had  no  lesson  papers;  no  Sunday  School  library;  no 
Gospel  songs;  no  musical  instrument,  but  they  had  the 
Word  of  God  in  their  hands,  and  His  love  in  their  hearts, 
and  were  marvellously  helped  in  their  work  of  love,  which 
grew  and  broadened  out,  till  it  took  in  the  parents  as  well 
as  the  children,  and  a Bible  class  was  formed  in  which  all 
felt  a deep  interest.  Some  who  were  not  firm  believers  in 
the  truths  contained  in  the  Book  of  books,  but  who  came 
together  just  simply  to  pass  away  the  time,  were  convinced 
of  its  truth  and  found  there  the  hope  which  is  an  “ anchor 
to  the  soul  both  sure  and  steadfast.”  I can  remember  the 
deep  interest  which  all,  even  the  little  ones  evinced  in  the 
characters  of  whom  we  studied,  how  we  talked  of  them 
during  the  week,  and  chose  our  favorites,  and  how  all  be- 
came deeply  attached  to  Moses  and  dwelt  upon  his  love- 
liness, his  unselfishness,  his  patience  and  his  great  love  to 
the  rebellious  people  under  his  care.  And  we  wept  as  for 
a dear  friend  when  we  read  that  “he  went  up  from  the 
plains  of  Moab  into  the  mountain  of  Nebo  to  the  top  of 
Pisgah,  that  is  over  against  Jericho”  and  viewed  the  land 
which  he  might  never  enter,  and  died  there  and  was  buried 


40 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN. 


by  no  human  hands;  and  “no  man  knoweth  of  his  sepul- 
chre unto  this  day.”  The  day  following  this  sorrowful 
lesson,  my  mother  in  crossing  the  parade  ground,  met 
Captain  David  Hunter  who  looked  so  sad  and  downcast 
that  she  was  distressed  for  him,  and  said:  “What  is  the 
matter,  Captain?  are  you  sick  or  have  you  had  bad  news?” 
He  replied:  “Oh,  no!  Mrs.  Clark,  I am  not  sick  or  in  per- 
sonal trouble,  but  don’t  you  feel  sorry  that  Moses  is  dead?” 
I have  enlarged  somewhat  on  this  Sunday  School  because 
it  was  somewhat  peculiar,  and  because  it  was,  as  there  are 
good  grounds  for  believing,  the  first  Sunday  School  organ- 
ized in  this  Northwestern  region,  perhaps  the  first  North- 
west of  Detroit. 

The  country  around  the  fort  was  beautiful,  the  climate 
invigorating,  and  in  spite  of  the  inconveniences  and  annoy- 
ances experienced  by  the  pioneer  regiment  they  were  not 
without  their  enjoyments  and  recreations,  and  looking 
back  through  the  years,  recalling  the  social  gatherings  at 
each  others  fireside  in  the  winter,  the  various  indoor  amuse- 
ments, and  the  delightful  rides  and  rambles  in  the  summer, 
I feel  that  ours  was  a happy  life. 

But  the  most  charming  of  all  our  recreations  was  a ride 
to  “Little  Falls”  now  “Minnehaha.”  The  picture  in  my 
mind  of  this  gem  of  beauty,  makes  the  sheet  of  water  wider 
and  more  circular  than  it  is  now,  I know  it  was  fresher 
and  newer,  and  there  was  no  saloon  there  then,  no  fence, 
no  tables  and  benches,  cut  up  and  disfigured  with  names 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


41 


and  nonsense,  no  noisy  railroad,  no  hotel,  it  was  just  our 
dear  pure  “Little  Falls”  with  its  graceful  ferns,  its  bright 
flowers,  its  bird  music  and  its  lovely  water-fall.  And  v/hile 
we  children  rambled  on  the  banks,  and  gathered  pretty 
fragrant  things  fresh  from  their  Maker’s  hand,  listening 
the  while  to  sweet  sounds  in  the  air,  and  to  the  joyous 
liquid  music  of  the  laughing  water,  there  may  have  been 
some  love-making  going  on  in  the  cozy  nooks  and  corners 
on  the  hill  side  or  under  the  green  trees,  for  in  later  years, 
I have  now  and  then  come  upon  groups  of  two,  scattered 
here  and  there  in  those  same  places,  who  looked  like  lovers, 
which  recalled  to  my  mind  vividly  what  I had  seen  there 
long  ago.  That  enchanting  spot,  so  dainty  in  its  loveli- 
ness, is  hallowed  by  a thousand  tender  associations  and  it 
seems  more  than  cruel  to  allow  its  desecration  by  unholy 
surroundings  and  various  forms  of  vice.  Standing  beside 
it  now,  and  remembering  it  in  its  purity,  just  as  God  made 
it,  my  eyes  are  full  of  unshed  tears,  and  its  mellifluous 
ceaseless  song  seems  pleading  to  be  saved  from  the  vandal- 
ism which  threatens  to  destroy  all  its  sweet  influences  and 
make  it  common  and  unclean.  But  as  I,  alone,  of  all  who 
saw  it  in  those  days  long  gone  by,  stand  mourning  by  its 
side,  there  dawns  in  my  heart  the  hope  that  the  half  formed 
purpose  now  talked  of,  for  making  it  the  centre  of  a park 
for  the  delight  of  the  two  cities  between  which  it  stands, 
may  be  perfected,  thus  saving  it  from  destruction  and 
making  this  bright  jewel  in  its  setting  of  green,  the  very 


42 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.’ 


queen  of  all  the  many  attractions  of  this  part  of  our  State. 
Surely  no  spot  in  ours  or  any  other  State  offers  such  beauty 
or  so  many  inducements  for  such  a purpose,  and  coming 
generations  will  forever  bless  the  men  who  shall  carry  it 
out,  thus  preserving  our  lovely  Minnehaha  and  the  charm- 
ing surroundings  for  their  own  delight  and  the  enjoyment 
of  those  who  shall  come  after  them.  And  we  went  straw- 
berrying  too,  children  and  mothers  and  fathers,  and  young 
men  and  maidens,  and  often  now,  when  passing  through 
the  crowded  streets  of  our  great  city,  I feel  that  I am  walk- 
ing over  our  old  strawberry  patch.  How  sweet  those 
berries  were,  and  how  delicious  the  fish  which  we  caught 
in  the  pretty  Lakes  Calhoun  and  Harriet,  the  one  named 
for  the  great  statesman,  the  other  for  Mrs.  Leavenworth. 
We  generally  carried  our  treasures  from  field  and  lake  to 
the  “old  Government  Mill”  at  the  “Big  Falls”  St.  An- 
thony and  had  our  feast  prepared  and  set  in  order  by  the 
miller’s  wife.  And  then  we  had  games,  not  croquet  or 
any  of  those  inventions  which  were  then  in  the  far  future, 
but  “hide  and  seek;”  “blind  man’s  buff;”  “hide  the  hand- 
kerchief;” “ hunt  the  slipper,”  and  such  old-fashioned 
sports  which  all  enjoyed  most  heartily,  till  warned  by  the 
lenghtening  shadows  that  it  was  time  to  go  home,  which 
we  generally  reached  in  time  to  see  the  flag  lowered  to 
the  roll  of  the  sunset  drum.  Writing  poetry  is  beyond 
me,  but  there  was  an  inspiration  in  that  beautiful  banner, 
as  each  day  it  flung  out  its  stars  and  stripes  over  my  first 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


43 


and  dearly  loved  home,  which  thrills  my  frame  even  now, 
and  since  the  terrible  days  when  precious  blood  was  poured 
out  so  freely  to  maintain  it  in  its  proud  position,  it  has 
become  indeed  a holy  thing.  May  God  protect  and  bless 
it,  keep  it  unsullied  and  speed  the  day  when  it  shall  float 
over  a nation  whose  rulers  and  law-givers  shall  lay  judg- 
ment to  the  line  and  righteousness  to  the  plummet,  and 
forever  purge  from  it  everything  that  in  any  way  dims  the 
brightness  or  retards  the  progress  of  this  beloved  “ land 
of  the  free  and  home  of  the  brave.” 

It  must  have  been  difficult  to  find  amusements  and  recre- 
ations for  the  winters  in  that  fort,  so  completely  shut  away 
from  the  world,  and  so  environed  by  snow  and  ice,  but 
various  devices  were  planned  to  keep  up  the  general  cheer- 
fulness and  to  ward  off  gloomy  feelings  and  homesickness. 
I can  dimly  remember  the  acting  of  plays  in  which  the 
gentlemen  personated  all  the  characters  and  the  ladies 
and  children  looked  on.  I know  the  women  of  the  plays 
looked  very  tall  and  angular,  and  there  was  much  merri- 
ment about  the  costumes  which  were  eked  out  to  fit  them. 
It  may  be  that  the  performances  were  as  much  enjoyed  as 
if  everything  had  been  more  complete,  for  I know  there 
was  a great  deal  of  fun  and  jollity  at  their  theatricals. 

Among  my  earliest  recollections  is  that  of  sitting  on  a 
low  stool  beside  Mrs.  Snelling  and  my  mother  while  they 
read  and  studied  French  under  the  instruction  of  a soldier 
named  Simon,  and  the  memory  of  those  days  was  revived 


44 


“THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 


a few  months  ago  by  the  receipt  of  a card  from  “ Zeller 
C.  Simon,”  now  Mrs.  F.  L.  Grisard,  Vevay,  Indiana,  daugh- 
ter of  the  old  man,  as  a reminder  of  1822  and  1823  when 
she  and  I quietly  amused  ourselves  while  these  ladies 
received  instructions  in  that  language.  In  Mrs.  Ellet’s 
“ Pioneer  Women  of  the  Westf  Mrs.  Snelling  alludes  to  this 
old  French  teacher  and  regrets  his  loss  by  discharge,  add- 
ing that,  when  on  the  arrival  of  the  first  steamboat  bring- 
ing among  other  passengers,  the  Chevalier  Count  Bel- 
trami, an  Italian  adventurer,  she  expressed  this  regret,  he 
kindly  offered  to  continue  the  lessons  during  his  visit. 
He  could  speak  French  fluently,  but  did  not  understand 
English,  and  was  therefore  much  gratified  to  find  anyone 
who  could  converse  with  him. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1823,  the  steamboat  Virginia,  118 
feet  in  length  and  22  in  width,  arrived  at  the  fort.  “ It 
was  built  by  Knox  and  McKee  at  Wheeling,  Virginia,  and 
loaded  with  Government  stores  for  Fort  Snelling,”  so 
writes  one  of  the  firm,  Mr.  Redick  McKee  to  the  secretary 
of  “Historical  Society  of  Minnesota.”  Its  arrival  was  a 
great  event  indelibly  impressed  upon  the  memory  of  all 
who  were  there  to  witness  it. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


A COINCIDENCE. 

“ Backward  ! turn  backward,  O Time,  in  thy  flight ; 

Make  me  a child  again,  just  for  to-night.” 

TAKE  me  to  my  early  home  at  Fort  Snelling,  and 
help  me  to  live  over  again  that  happy  time,  when 
I knew  nothing  of  care  and  sorrow,  and  when  the  sight  of 
the  dear  old  flag,  run  up,  each  morning,  to  the  roll  of  the 
drum,  and  the  sentinel’s  call,  each  night,  “ All ’s  well 
around,”  made  me  feel  secure  and  at  home,  even  in  what 
was  then  a wilderness.  Many  pleasant  scenes,  and  many 
startling  ones,  come  at  my  call.  Some  are  more  vivid 
than  others,  and  perhaps  the  most  distinct  of  my  early 
remembrances  is  the  arrival  of  the  first  steamboat.  It  had 
been  talked  of  and  expected  for  a long  time  ; it  is  hard 
to  realize  in  this  age  of  rapid  traveling  how  deeply  inter- 
ested and  excited  every  one  felt  in  anticipation  of  what 
was  then  a great  event.  It  was  to  bring  us  into  more 
direct  and  easy  communication  with  the  world;  and  small 
wonder  that  the  prospect  of  being  at  the  head  of  steam- 
boat navigation  should  have  caused  excitement  and  re- 
joicing to  those  who  had  been  receiving  their  mails  at 
intervals  of  months  instead  of  hours.  To  me,  of  course, 


46 


‘THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


child  that  I was,  it  only  meant  a sight  never  before  wit- 
nessed, a something  heard  of,  and  seen  in  pictures,  but 
never  realized.  But  even  we  children  felt  in  listening  to 
our  elders,  that  something  great  was  about  to  happen. 

At  last,  one  bright  summer  morning,  while  amusing 
myself  on  the  piazza  in  the  rear  of  the  officers’  quarters, 
there  came  a sound  new  and  very  strange  ! All  listened  a 
moment  in  awe  and  gratitude,  and  then,  broke  out,  from 
many  voices,  “The  steamboat  is  coming  ! the  steamboat 
is  coming  !”  And  look  ! there  is  the  smoke  curling  grace- 
fully through  the  trees  ; hark  ! to  the  puffing  of  the  steam, 
startling  the  echoes  from  asleep  co-eval  with  the  creation  ; 
now  she  rounds  the  point,  and  comes  into  full  view.  I 
stand  on  tiptoe,  but  cannot  see  all  I long  to,  till  Lieuten- 
ant David  Hunter,  my  special  favorite,  catches  me  up  and 
holds  me  on  the  balustrade  ; and  now  I clap  my  hands, 
and  almost  cry  with  delight,  for  there  she  is,  just 
landing,  in  all  her  pride  and  beauty,  as  if  she  felt  herself 
the  Pioneer  Steamboat,  and  knew  she  would  become 
historic. 

Officers  and  soldiers,  women  and  children,  are  hurrying 
down  the  hill ; terrified  Indians  rush  from  their  wigwams 
and  look  on  in  amazement,  utterly  confounded,  refusing 
to  go  near  what  they  call  the  “ Bad  Spirit .” 

Greetings  and  congratulations  warm  and  heartfelt  are 
exchanged  ; and  speedily  the  mail  is  opened,  papers  and 
letters  are  distributed  ; all  search  eagerly  for  news  from 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


47 


home,  and  my  joy  is  turned  into  grief  for  my  friend  Lieu- 
tenant Hunter,  who  learned,  by  the  very  boat  whose  com- 
ing he  hailed  with  so  much  pleasure,  that  he  is  fatherless. 
All  sympathize  deeply  with  him  ; few  know  how  closely 
drawn  together  are  the  occupants  of  a frontier  post ; but 
the  common  joy,  although  dampened,  was  not  destroyed, 
and  civilities  were  tendered  to  the  captain  and  officers  of 
the  boat,  who  were  real  gentlemen,  and  became  great  fa- 
vorites at  the  fort.  They  came  again  the  next  year,  per- 
haps more  than  once,  and  pleasant  excursion  parties  on  the 
boat  relieved  the  monotony  of  fort  life. 

The  steamboat  was  the  topic  of  conversation  for  a long 
time.  The  day  of  its  arrival  became  an  era  from  which  we 
reckoned,  and  those  of  the  first  occupants  of  Fort  Snell- 
ing  who  still  survive,  can  scarcely  recall  a more  delight- 
ful reminiscence  than  the  arrival  of  the  first  steamboat,  in 
the  summer  of  1823.  Years  passed  away,  childhood  with 
its  lightheartedness  gave  way  to  youth,  and  that  again  to 
womanhood,  and  then  came  middle  life  with  its  many 
cares,  its  griefs,  its  joys  too,  and  its  unnumbered  mercies, 
with  bright  anticipations  of  a blessed  rest  from  toil  and 
pain, — when  on  one  pleasant  summer  day  in  1864,  I find 
myself,  with  a party  of  friends  who  have  come  to  visit 
Fort  Snelling  and  its  many  interesting  surroundings, 
standing,  side  by  side  with  my  mother,  on  the  bastion  of 
the  fort,  recalling  days  and  scenes  gone  by.  Leaning 
against  the  railing,  and  contemplating  the  river,  so  beau- 


48 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN 


tiful  from  that  height,  she  remarked  to  me:  “Can  you  re- 
member, my  child,  when  the  first  steamboat  came  up  this 
river?”  I answered,  “Yes,  oh  yes!  most  distinctly  do  I 
remember  it.”  And  then  we  talk  of  the  event,  and  recall 
the  many  pleasant  things  connected  with  it,  when,  lo!  a 
whistle,  and  the  loud  puffing  and  snorting  of  the  iron  horse! 
Captain  Newson,  standing  near  and  listening  to  our  con- 
versation, exclaimed,  pointing  over  to  Mendota,  “And 
there  goes  the  first  train  of  cars  that  ever  started  out  from 
Fort  Snelling  !” 

Hushed  and  breathless,  we  gaze  at  the  fast  vanishing 
train,  feeling,  as  we  stand  there,  we  two,  alone,  of  all  who 
saw  that  other  great  event,  over  forty  years  ago , like  links 
connecting  the  buried  past  with  the  living  present.  And 
we  would  fain  weep  as  we  think  of  those  who  stood  beside 
us  then,  now  long  since  passed  away — but  living,  loving 
friends  are  about  us,  and  we  will  not  let  our  sadness  mar 
their  pleasure  ; so  down  in  the  depth  of  our  hearts  we  hide 
these  tender  recollections,  to  indulge  in  when  we  are  alone. 
I look  long  at  the  beautiful  river,  and  think,  as  it  ripples 
and  laughs  in  the  sunlight,  that,  could  our  ears  catch  the 
language  of  its  murmurings,  we  should  hear: 

“ Men  may  come,  and  men  may  go, 

But  I go  on  forever.” 


CHAPTER  VII. 


ANDREW  TULLY. 

©H!  Malcolm,  look  at  that  little  boy  on  the  steps  of  our 
quarters;  who  can  he  be?  Where  did  he  come 
from?”“Oh,  sister,  do  you  think  he  can  be  the  little  brother 
we  have  been  praying  God  to  send  us?  Let’s  run  home 
and  ask  mother  about  it.” 

The  scene  of  this  dialogue  was  the  parade  ground  of 
Old  Fort  Snelling,  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1823;  the  two 
little  children  had  just  been  dismissed  from  the  fort  school 
house,  and  were  going  home  to  dinner.  The  sun  shone 
very  brightly  that  day.  The  dinner  drum  was  beating, 
the  soldiers,  by  companies,  were  in  line  before  their  quar- 
ters for  roll-call,  and  the  dear  old  flag  floated  gracefully 
in  front  of  headquarters.  I can  see  it  all  new,  through 
my  tear-dimmed  eyes,  and  recall  the  mingled  feelings  of 
joyful  surprise  and  expectation  with  which  we,  the  little 
son  and  daughter  of  Captain  Clark,  hastened  to  our  home, 
our  eyes  all  the  while  fixed  on  the  little  fair-haired 
stranger,  who  stood  on  the  porch  of  our  father’s  quarters, 
the  first  in  the  row  of  officers’  quarters  as  you  enter  the 
Fort  by  the  front  gate,  and  just  beyond  the  steps  leading 
down  to  the  old  Commissary’s  store. 


50 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


When  we  reached  our  goal,  there  stood  the  pretty  blue- 
eyed boy,  looking  about  with  wonder  at  all  he  saw,  and 
smiling  at  us  as  we  came  up  to  him,  and  laid  our  hands 
on  him  gently,  to  assure  ourselves  that  he  was  real.  Just 
inside  the  door  stood  dear  mother,  with  a bright  happy 
look,  enjoying  our  surprise,  and  we,  with  one  voice, 
exclaimed:  “Mother,  who  is  this  little  boy?  where  did 
he  come  from?  is  he  going  to  stay  with  us  always?”  As 
soon  as  we  gave  her  a chance  to  reply,  she  said:  “ Don’t 
you  know  that  every  night  when  you  say  your  prayers, 
you  always  say,  ‘please,  God,  give  us  a little  brother!’ 
How  do  you  know  but  God  has  heard  your  prayer,  and 
sent  you  this  little  brother?”  We  were  very  quiet  now, 
and  tried  to  take  it  all  in,  but  before  we  had  succeeded  to 
our  satisfaction  in  fully  comprehending  it,  our  father  came 
from  roll-call,  and  taking  us  by  the  hand,  said:  “Come 
to  dinner  now,  mother  will  lead  little  Andrew  to  his  place 
and  we  will  tell  you  all  about  it,”  And  this  is  the  story 
we  heard  on  that  ever  to  be  remembered  day,  as  we  sat 
by  our  father  and  mother,  and  our  hearts  went  out  with 
love  to  the  little  boy  beside  us: 

‘A  few  weeks  ago,  Col.  Snelling  heard  from  some 
hunters,  who  had  been  far  out  west,  that  there  were  two 
little  white  boys  held  captive  by  a band  of  Sioux;  he  sent 
out  some  troops,  who  rescued  the  children,  and  they 
reached  the  Fort  this  morning  with  the  boys;  the  oldest 
one,  John,  is  at  the  Colonel’s,  and  this  is  the  other,  ‘An- 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


51 


drew  Tully;’  shall  we  keep  him  with  us?”  “Oh,  yes! 
father,  we  want  him  for  our  little  brother;”  and  he  became 
one  of  us.  In  time  we  learned  from  John,  who  was  a 
bright  boy,  and  from  the  rescuing  party,  who  had  heard 
some  particulars,  that  Mr.  David  Tully,  a Scotchman,  had 
been  living  three  years  at  the  Selkirk  settlement,  where 
the  crops  had  been  so  poor,  from  various  causes,  notably 
from  the  grasshoppers  and  the  ravages  of  innumerable 
black  birds,  that  a famine  was  threatened,  and  he,  becom- 
ing discouraged,  had  started,  with  his  wife  and  children, 
two  boys  and  an  infant  daughter,  to  come  to  the  Fort, 
hoping  in  some  way  to  continue  his  journey  from  there  to 
the  white  settlements,  and  find  work  to  enable  him  to  live 
and  support  his  family  comfortably. 

After  traveling  for  many  days,  they  were  overtaken  by 
a party  of  Sioux,  who,  returning  from  an  unsuccessful 
hunt,  were  in  a very  bad  humor,  and  attacking  Mr.  Tully, 
demanded  such  provisions  as  he  had.  He  refused,  of 
course,  to  give  up  that,  without  which  his  family  must 
perish,  and  they  fell  upon  him,  soon  disabled  him,  and 
seizing  the  little  baby,  dashed  its  brains  out  on  the  ice, 
then  mortally  wounded  his  wife,  and  with  a blow  of  his 
hatchet,  one  of  the  party  finished  them  both.  John  says 
he  remembers  seeing  his  father,  who  had  broken  through 
the  ice,  struggling  to  save  his  mother  and  the  baby,  but 
that  when  they  knew  there  was  no  hope  left,  his  parents 
told  him  to  take  his  little  brother  and  hide  in  the  bushes, 


52 


“THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 


and  to  try  in  every  way  to  get  to  the  settlements.  Then, 
with  their  dying  breath,  they  besought  God  to  take  care 
of  their  little  boys,  and  their  freed  spirits  went  beyond 
the  reach  of  pain  and  suffering.  The  little  fellows  obeyed 
them,  and  ran  for  safety  to  some  hazel  brush  near  by, 
where,  of  course,  the  Indians  soon  found  them,  but  their 
thirst  for  blood  being  somewhat  allayed,  and  their  object 
attained,  they  contented  themselves  with  cutting  off  a 
piece  of  John’s  scalp,  tearing  it  most  brutally  from  the 
quivering  flesh,  when  the  squaws  from  some  tepees  near 
by,  hearing  his  heart-rending  screams,  came  to  the  rescue, 
and  begged  that  they  might  keep  the  children.  And 
there  they  had  remained,  receiving  such  care  as  the  Indian 
women  give  their  own  pappooses,  and  making  friends  of 
all  in  the  wigwam.  When  the  troops  came  to  the  rescue, 
the  Indian  women  were  unwilling  to  give  them  up;  they 
had  taken  an  especial  fancy  to  Andrew,  who  was  very 
fair,  and  of  a sweet,  gentle  disposition.  He  was  not  quite 
three  years  old,  and,  of  course,  could  not  so  well  under- 
stand the  dreadful  loss  they  had  sustained  as  John,  who 
was  two  years  older,  and  who  never  recovered  from  the 
shock  of  the  fearful  tragedy,  and  from  the  injury  done  his 
nervous  system  by  the  cruel  scalping-knife. 

He  remained  at  Col.  Snelling’s  during  his  life,  two  or 
three  years,  and  then,  from  an  injury  received  from  an 
axe,  was  taken  with  lock-jaw  and  died.  During  his  illness 
he  raved  of  the  barbarous  Indians,  who  killed  his  dear 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


53 


ones,  begged  them  to  spare  the  baby,  and  not  hurt  his 
mother;  then  he  would  seem  to  be  hurrying  Andrew  out 
of  the  way  of  the  murderers,  and  hiding  him  as  well  as 
he  could.  He  suffered  terrible  mental  agony,  but  he  had 
been  carefully  taught  by  Mrs.  Snelling,  whom  he  learned 
to  love  very  dearly,  and,  reason  returning  before  he  died, 
he  gave  clear  evidence  that  he  loved  the  Savior,  and  felt 
sure  that  he  would  take  him  to  heaven,  where  his  father 
and  mother,  and  precious  little  sister  were  awaiting  him. 

Little  Andrew  grew  finely  and  proved  a perfectly 
healthy  child.  His  preservation  and  rescue  were  so  re- 
markable that  my  father  gave  him  the  name  of  “Marvel,” 
and  almost  always  addressed  him  as  “Andrew  Marvel.” 
He  had  been  our  little  playmate  and  brother  for  two 
years  when  our  father  obtained  a furlough  and  took  us  all 
to  New  England  to  visit  our  relatives  there,  and  we  went 
by  the  way  of  New  Orleans,  that  being  the  only  comfort- 
able and  continuous  route  to  New  York  at  that  time.  It 
was  our  first  journey  since  we  children  could  remember, 
and  we  were  all  delighted  beyond  measure  at  the  thought 
of  it.  A keel-boat  was  fitted  up  nicely  for  the  occasion, 
and  in  addition  to  our  immediate  family,  including  Andrew 
of  course,  we  had  as  fellow  travelers  Captain  Leonard,  his 
wife  and  two  children,  making  quite  a large  party.  I 
remember  distinctly  our  starting,  the  good-byes  from 
those  who  stood  on  shore,  the  slow  progress  of  the  boat 
as  it  was  poled  along  by  the  crew,  and  it  was  not  without 


54  “THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 

a quiver  of  sadness  that  we  turned  the  point  where  we 
lost  sight  of  the  flag.  We  felt  then  that  we  were  away 
from  home  and  all  seemed  very  strange,  but  there  was 
much  to  interest  us,  and  we  soon  became  accustomed  to 
our  new  experiences.  The  ceaseless  walking  to  and  fro 
of  the  men  who  propelled  us  along  was  an  accompaniment 
to  all  our  daily  amusements  and  we  went  to  sleep  lulled 
by  their  regular  footfalls. 

And  so  we  journeyed  on,  day  after  day,  until  we  made 
the  whole  three  hundred  miles  and  landed  at  Ft.  Craw- 
ford— Prairie  du  Chien.  I do  not  remember  how  many 
weeks  we  traveled  thus,  but  I know  that  all  the  children 
on  board  the  boat  had  chicken  pox  and  recovered  during 
the  trip.  Arriving  at  the  “Prairie,”  as  it  was  frequently 
called  in  those  days,  we  were  to  take  a steamer  for 
St.  Louis  and  New  Orleans;  but  before  our  departure  I 
remember  we  were  all  vaccinated  by  the  surgeon  at  that 
post,  whose  name  was  Dr.  James,  and  I know  that  in  every 
case  he  was  very  successful.  Our  arrival  at  St.  Louis,  the 
first  city  the  children  had  ever  seen,  was  an  epoch  in  our 
lives,  and  I can  clearly  recall  my  feeling  of  loneliness  at 
the  utter  absence  of  everything  military.  It  was  indeed  a 
new  world  to  me.  I could  not  understand  it,  and  felt 
not  a little  indignant  that  so  many  men  passed  and  re- 
passed my  father  as  we  walked  along  the  streets  without 
saluting  him,  for  which  remissness  in  duty  I suggested  the 
guard-house.  Arriving  at  New  Orleans,  where  we  were 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


55 


much  overpowered  by  the  heat,  we  remained  omy  long 
enough  to  secure  passage  to  New  York  on  the  sailing 
vessel  “Crawford,”  and  departed  on  our  first  sea  voyage. 
We  were  twenty-seven  days  out  of  sight  of  land,  encoun- 
tering a fearful  storm  off  Cape  Hatteras,  and  the  crimson 
light  from  the  light-house  there,  like  the  red  eye  of  some 
great  monster  gazing  at  us  through  the  gloom,  when  we 
were  every  moment  expecting  to  be  engulfed,  made  an 
ineffaceable  impression  upon  me.  But  He  who  is  “mightier 
than  the  noise  of  many  waters,  or  the  mighty  waves  of  the 
sea,”  delivered  us  from  our  peril  and  brought  us  safely  to 
our  desired  haven,  where  we  were  warmly  welcomed  by 
dear  friends  and  where  we  found  ourselves  famous  as 
having  come  from  the  “Far  West,”  a part  of  the  world  of 
which  their  ideas  were  most  vague  and  imperfect.  The 
story  of  our  little  Andrew  created  intense  excitement,  and 
crowds  of  people  came  to  see  a child  who  had  so  thrilling 
a history.  Among  these  visitors  came  Mrs.  Divie  Bethune 
and  the  widow  of  Alexander  Hamilton,  who  were  lady 
patronesses  of  an  orphan  asylum  in  the  city.  They  urged 
strongly  that  he  should  be  placed  under  their  care,  plan- 
ning to  educate  him  for  the  ministry,  and  send  him  out  to 
preach  the  gospel  of  peace  to  the  tribe  of  Indians  who 
had  murdered  his  parents.  We  all  objected  strongly  to 
giving  him  up,  but  the  ladies  at  length  persuaded  father 
that  they  could  do  better  by  him  than  one  whose  life  was 
one  of  constant  change  and  uncertainty,  and,  with  a view 


56 


“three  score  years  and  ten.” 


to  the  boy’s  best  interests,  he  yielded  to  their  entreaties, 
and  our' little  brother  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  orphan 
asylum.  We  remained  at  the  East  a year  visiting  dear 
friends  in  New  England  and  spending  some  time  in  New 
Haven,  where  a precious  little  sister,  born  at  Fort  Snell- 
ing,  died  and  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  burial  lot  of  Joseph 
Brewster,  whose  wife  was  our  father’s  much-loved  cousin. 
When  years  afterward  I went  from  a frontier  post  and 
became  a pupil  in  Mrs.  Apthorp’s  seminary,  in  the  lovely 
City  of  Elms,  that  little  grave  in  the  beautiful  cemetery 
comforted  me  in  my  homesickness. 

In  1833  my  father  made  a second  visit  to  the  East,  and 
while  in  New  York  hunted  up  Andrew,  whom  he  found 
apprenticed  to  a wagon  maker,  and  could  not  learn  why 
the  original  purpose  of  fitting  him  for  the  ministry  had 
been  abandoned.  But  the  boy  seemed  doing  well  and  was 
happy  and  content.  Three  years  later,  when  our  father 
lay  on  his  death-bed  at  Fort  Winnebago,  a letter  came 
to  him  from  relatives  of  the  Tullys  inquiring  about  these 
boys,  stating  that  some  money  from  their  mother’s  family 
was  awaiting  them.  Father  dictated  a reply  telling  the 
writer  all  he  knew  of  them  and  gave  him  the  address  of 
Andrew  in  New  York;  and  for  years  afterwards  we  heard 
nothing  of  him.  My  mother  made  inquiries  by  letter  of 
parties  whom  she  thought  might  tell  her  something  con- 
cerning him  and  used  all  available  means  to  find  him,  in 
vain,  much  to  the  regret  of  all  our  family,  and  we  came 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


57 


to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  dead.  A few  years  ago, 
after  our  mother  had  gone  to  her  rest,  we  saw  in  an 
eastern  paper  the  obituary  of  Rev.  Abraham  Tully,  of  New 
Jersey,  in  which  reference  was  made  to  these  “Tully  boys,” 
stating  that  the  only  survivor  of  that  branch  of  the  family 
was  Andrew,  a carriage  maker  in  New  York  city.  Im- 
mediately we  procured  from  the  New  Jersey  family  his 
address  and  communicated  with  him.  A cousin  of  his, 
the  Rev.  David  Tully,  well  known  and  beloved  as  the 
pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  church  in  Jacksonville,  Florida, 
spent  a summer  in  Minnesota,  and  calling  on  me  told  me 
he  thought  Andrew  might  visit  this  part  of  the  country 
during  the  season.  And  one  day,  just  at  sun-setting,  our 
door  bell  rang,  and  answering  it  in  person,  I saw  a gentle- 
man whom  I did  not  know,  who  looked  at  me  without 
speaking,  for  a moment,  and  then  said:  “Is  this  my  sister 
Charlotte?”  Like  a flash  it  came  to  me,  and  I replied: 
“Is  this  my  brother  Andrew?”  And  we  kissed  each 
other,  we  two  old  people  who  hcd  parted  when  we  were 
little  children  and  had  not  met  for  more  than  sixty  years. 
He  spent  some  days  with  us  and  we  learned  that  he  was 
an  active,  earnest  Christian,  an  honored  member  of  the 
Reformed  Dutch  Church  in  Harlem,  New  York,  Rev.  Mr. 
Smythe,  pastor;  that  he  had  married  and  had  one  son  who 
grew  to  manhood,  but  had  been  bereft  of  all  and  was 
alone  in  the  world.  He  knew  so  little  of  his  early  life 
that  the  story  I could  tell  him  was  a revelation  to  him. 


58  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

He  had  preserved,  through  all  his  reverses  and  trials,  his 
sweet,  sunny  temper,  and  soon  made  friends  of  the  whole 
household.  We  rode  together  to  the  old  fort  and  I 
pointed  out  to  him  the  very  spot  on  which  he  stood  on 
that  spring  morning  long  ago  when  we  first  saw  our 
“Brother  Andrew.” 

We  visited  the  graveyard  and  I showed  him  the  grave 
of  his  brother  John,  which  having  no  headboard  or  name, 
could  only  be  identified  by  its  being  next  to  the  little 
stone  inscribed  “ E.  S.,”  which  I knew  marked  the  grave 
of  Mrs.  Snelling’s  little  daughter.  We  searched  the  rec- 
ords at  the  quartermaster’s  office  in  vain  for  a description  of 
his  brother’s  grave,  that  we  might  make  sure  of  the  spot,  as 
the  Tully  family  wish  to  erect  a monument  to  his  memory. 

We  walked  about  the  fort,  went  to  the  brow  of  the  bluff 
where  the  old  bastion  formerly  stood,  and  while  strolling 
around  the  home  of  our  childhood  were  met  by  General 
Gibbon,  then  in  command,  who,  learning  who  we  were 
and  what  was  our  errand,  took  us  to  his  quarters  and 
showed  us  much  kindness.  I told  him  many  things  of 
the  old  fort  which  were  .never  recorded,  pointed  out  to  him 
where  the  stones  in  the  front  wall  of  headquarters  had 
been  riven  by  lightning  when  I was  a little  girl,  and  our 
pleasant  visit  rounded  up  with  a ride  in  his  carriage  to 
call  on  General  Terry  and  other  officers,  who  all  seemed 
interested  to  see  us;  relics,  as  it  were,  of  the  times  before 
their  day. 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


59 


Our  courteous  escort  drove  with  us  to  the  site  of  the 
old  Camp  Coldwater,  and  we  drank  from  a tin  cup  of 
the  clear  spring  which  now  supplies  the  garrison  with 
water,  as  we  had  done  more  than  half  a century  before. 
Driving  back  to  the  fort  just  as  the  bugle  sounded  for 
“orderly  call,”  the  General,  in  tender  consideration  of  my 
deafness,  called  the  bugler,  and  bade  him  sound  it  again 
by  the  side  of  the  carriage.  To  hear  is  to  obey,  and  the 
musician,  ignorant  of  the  reason  for  the  command,  re- 
peated the  clear,  ringing  call,  where  my  dull  ears  could 
take  it  all  in.  No  words  can  describe  my  sensations,  as. 
with  Andrew  Tully  beside  me,  I listened  with  bated  breath 
to  the  familiar  notes  unheard  for  years,  and,  with  eyes 
brimming  with  tears,  I could  only  say,  “ Oh,  General, 
I thank  you;  this  makes  me  feel  that  I must  hear  my 
mother’s  voice  calling  me  home  to  the  dear  old  quarters 
over  there,  ‘to  get  ready  for  dinner.’  ” And  then,  as  our  car- 
riage drove  up,  and  we  thanked  our  noble  host  for  his 
kind  and  considerate  attentions  to  us,  he  said,  “ I have  to 
thank  you  for  more  information  about  Fort  Snelling  than 
ever  I had  before.”  And  so,  past  the  old  sutler’s  store, 
the  guard  house  and  the  vine-clad  tower,  we  drove  away 
very  silently  from  our  early  home,  and  after  an  hour’s 
resting  at  Minnehaha,  returned  to  Minneapolis,  talking 
by  the  way  of  the  strange  experiences  of  our  lives,  and 
the  wonderful  way  in  which  God  had  brought  us  together 
again  in  our  old  age. 


6o 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


Andrew  made  a visit  to  Winnipeg  in  search  of  some  one 
who  had  known  his  parents,  and  there  he  found  an  old 
man  named  Macbeth,  who  had  blown  the  bellows  in  his 
father’s  shop,  which  stood  just  in  one  corner  of  what  is 
now  the  city  of  Winnipeg.  He  told  him  how  the  friends 
there  opposed  his  father’s  leaving  the  settlement  when  he 
did,  as  he  had  remained  there  three  years,  and  they  felt 
the  times  would  be  better  soon;  but  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  that  he  could  improve  his  condition  by  seeking  a 
more  congenial  home,  and  they  could  not  dissuade  him. 
He  also  told  him  that,  from  the  accounts  of  the  Indians 
and  others,  it  was  generally  believed  that  the  scene  of  his 
parent’s  murder  must  have  been  where  Grand  Forks  now 
stands.  He  made  some  inquiries  as  to  the  possibility  of 
recovering  anything  on  his  father’s  claim,  but  could  learn 
nothing  encouraging.  He  hopes  to  visit  Minnesota 
again ; meantime  we  correspond  regularly,  and  he  takes  a 
deep  interest  in  the  growth  and  development  of  the  great 
Northwest,  with  which  his  early  life  was  so  singularly 
identified.  He  is  still  in  the  business  for  which  he  was 
trained,  and,  by  patient  industry  and  skilled  workmanship, 
has  reached  the  summit,  and  receives  satisfactory  returns 
for  his  labor ; and  so,  although  his  life  has  not  been  with- 
out its  trials,  yet  an  overruling  Providence  has  dealt  gra- 
ciously with  the  little  fair  haired  orphan  boy  who  hid  from 
the  savages  in  the  hazel  copse  so  many  years  ago. 

We  returned  home  from  our  eastern  trip  by  the  way  of 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  6l 

the  great  lakes,  as  the  route  was  called  in  those  days;  and 
although  we  left  dear  friends  and  many  pleasant  things 
behind  us,  we  were  rejoiced  to  be  once  more  in  the  fort, 
in  the  midst  of  military  surroundings. 

Soon  after  our  return,  my  father  and  Major  Garland 
obtained  permission  to  build  more  commodious  quarters 
outside  the  walls,  and  the  result  was  the  erection  of  the 
two  stone  cottages  nearly  opposite  the  old  Indian  Agency, 
a few  rods  from  the  fort.  The  grounds  about  them  were 
improved  and  beautified  with  flowers  and  shrubs,  and  the 
change  was  very  beneficial  and  agreeable  to  us  all.  Here, 
I remember,  we  had  regular  instruction  in  the  fundamen- 
tal English  branches  from  our  father,  whose  great  anxiety 
was  that  we  might  suffer  for  want  of  good  schools;  and  so 
great  was  his  zeal  and  thoroughness  in  this  direction, 
that  in  after  years,  when  we  had  greater  advantages,  it 
was  found  that  we  were  fully  up  to  the  grade  of  children 
of  our  age  who  had  been  to  school  all  their  lives. 

The  two  families  became  much  attached  to  each  other,  and 
when  Major  Garland  was  ordered  elsewhere, we  felt  the  sep- 
aration keenly.  We  have  never  met  since  thattime.  One  of 
the  Major  s daughters,  my  early  friend  and  playmate,  mar- 
ried General  Longstreet,  and  the  time  came  when  our  hus- 
band’s stood  on  opposite  sides  in  the  lamentable  civil  war. 
Thank  God,  that  is  all  over  now,  and  should  we  ever  meet 
again,  we  could  talk  lovingly  of  the  old  times  when,  as 
children,  we  played  together  under  one  flag,  in  happy 
unconsciousness  of  the  trials  and  sorrows  that  lay  before  us. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


A WOLF  STORY. 

AMONG  the  recreations  which  relieved  the  tedium  of 
garrison  life,  was  an  occasional  wolf  chase.  I am 
too  tender  hearted  to  call  it  an  amusement,  but  it  was 
exceedingly  exciting.  The  animal  having  been  caught  in 
a box-trap,  and  not  maimed  or  crippled  in  any  way,  was 
first  muzzled,  and  then  let  loose  fora  race  for  its  life  over 
the  prairies,  with  hounds  and  hunters  in  full  pursuit.  All 
the  blue  coats  and  brass  buttons  of  the  hunters  did  not 
make  that  a brave  thing  to  do,  but  the  wolves  were  great 
nuisances,  and  it  was  long  before  the  days  of  Bergh.  On 
one  of  these  occasions,  the  wolf  was  led  to  the  starting 
point  by  some  soldiers  to  be  prepared  for  the  chase,  but 
none  of  them  really  liked  the  idea  of  taking  hold  of  his 
fierce  looking  jaws  while  the  muzzling  process  was  going 
on.  My  brother,  Malcolm,  a boy  of  seven  or  eight,  and 
already  an  apt  pupil  of  Martin  Scott,  stepped  up  and 
grasping  the  animal’s  snout  with  his  little  hands,  called 
out:  “Muzzle  him  now,  I’ll  hold  him,”  and  they  did  it. 
Those  who  know  how  the  land  lies,  and  how  well  adapted 
it  was  for  such  a chase,  can  readily  imagine  that  for  those 
who  like  such  sport,  it  must  have  been  very  enjoyable,  and 
a great  relief  from  the  monotony  of  life  in  a frontier  fort. 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


63 


During  the  winter  of  ’25  and  ’26,  the  wolves  were 
unusually  troublesome,  and  came  every  night  to  the  barns 
and  out-houses,  carrying  off  any  small  stock  they  could 
find.  We  were  occupying  the  stone  cottage  at  that  time, 
and  my  brother  and  I were  much  interested  in  the  case  of 
some  chickens  and  other  pets  which  we  were  allowed  to 
call  ours. 

Of  course  we  grieved  over  the  result  of  these  nightly 
raids,  and,  finally,  thought  we  would  try  and  catch  some 
of  the  marauders;  so  procuring  a steel-trap,  we  had  a 
dead  carcass  of  some  animal  hauled  to  the  foot  of  our 
garden,  and  began  our  work  in  real  earnest.  Our  success 
was  far  beyond  our  hopes,  and  it  was  our  custom  to  rise 
every  morning  at  reveille,  dress  ourselves  hastily  and  run 
down  to  look  at  the  trap,  which  was  rarely  without  an 
occupant.  One  morning,  to  our  astonishment,  the  trap 
was  gone,  but  the  blood  on  the  snow,  and  the  peculiar 
track  leading  toward  the  woods,  satisfied  us  that  a wolf 
was  in  that  trap  somewhere  between  the  fort  and  the 
“Little  Falls.”  Hoping  to  find  him  near  home,  we  started 
in  pursuit,  without  any  protection  from  the  cold,  which 
was  intense,  but  the  sun  shone  so  brightly  that  we  did  not 
think  of  the  cold;  our  one  idea  was — the  wolf,  and  how 
to  catch  him.  I was  bare-headed  and  bare-handed;  my 
brother,  boy-like,  had  seized  his  cap  and  mittens  as  he 
left  the  house,  and  was  better  off  than  I.  After  traveling 
on,  and  on,  not  in  the  beaten  path,  but  wherever  that 


64 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


track  led  us,  we,  of  course,  became  cold  and  very  tired, 
but  still  could  not  think  of  giving  up  our  search,  and  my 
dear,  brave  brother  insisted  on  my  wearing  his  cap  and 
mittens,  saying,  “ boys  can  stand  the  cold  better  than 
girls.”  We  must  have  gone  more  than  a mile  when  our 
consciences,  aided  by  the  cold,  began  to  warn  us  that  we 
were  doing  wrong,  that  our  parents  would  be  anxious 
about  us,  and  we  ought  to  go  back,  but  how  could  we 
give  up  the  pleasure  of  taking  that  wolf  back  in  triumph, 
for  the  track  assured  us  v:e  should  find  him  crippled  and 
fast  to  the  trap,  and  we  thought  how  pleased  Captain 
Scott  would  be  to  see  us  there  with  our  prisoner  as  he 
came  out  to  breakfast.  Looking  back  over  the  long 
years,  I can  clearly  remember  that  that  thought  gave  me 
courage,  and  enabled  me  to  hold  out  so  long.  But,  as  we 
talked  the  matter  over,  setting  duty  against  inclination, 
and  unable  to  decide,  there  appeared  to  us  what  may  have 
been  an  angel  in  disguise;  to  us  it  was  an  Indian  boy  in  a 
blanket,  with  his  bow  and  quiver,  emerging  from  the 
bushes  very  near  “ Minnehaha,”  and  thus  my  brother 
accosted  him:  “ How!  Nitchie.”  After  a friendly  reply 
to  this  invariable  salutation,  Malcolm  told  him  in  the 
Indian  language,  which  was  then  as  familiar  to  us  as  our 
mother  tongue,  why  we  were  there  and  what  we  wanted, 
offering  him  a loaf  of  bread  and  piece  of  pork  if  he  would 
find  our  wolf  and  bring  him  to  our  door  immediately. 
The  lad  gladly  closed  with  the  offer,  took  the  trail  and 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  65 

started  after  him,  while  we  turned  our  faces  homeward. 
And  now,  the  excitement  of  expectancy  being  over,  we 
began  to  have  serious  misgivings  as  to  the  propriety  of 
having  gone  so  far  from  home  without  the  knowledge  of 
our  parents,  and  the  wind,  which  blew  keenly  in  our  faces, 
sided  with  our  consciences,  and  convinced  us  we  had  much 
better  have  either  staid  at  home  or  prepared  ourselves 
with  a permit  and  good  warm  wrappings.  It  all  comes 
back  to  me  so  plainly  that  I can  almost  feel  the  pinchings 
of  the  cold  and  the  torment  of  a guilty  conscience  as  I 
write,  and  I feel  a real  pity  for  these  two  little  children  as 
they  trudge  along  over  the  prairie,  so  troubled  and  so 
cold.  My  dear  brother  being  older  than  I,  and  the  chief 
party  interested,  generously  took  most  of  the  blame  to 
himself,  and  comforted  me  as  well  as  he  could,  running 
backwards  in  front  of  me  to  shelter  me  from  the  wind,  and 
assuring  me  he  would  tell  father  all  about  it,  and  he  would 
forgive  us.  I have  carried  in  my  heart  of  hearts  for  sixty 
years  the  image  of  that  beautiful,  bright-eyed,  unselfish 
brother;  and  when,  not  many  years  ago,  the  terrible  news 
came  to  me  that  treacherous  hands  had  taken  his  precious 
life,  like  one  of  old  I cried  in  my  anguish,  “Oh,  Malcolm! 
my  brother,  would  to  God  that  I had  died  for  thee,  my 
brother,  oh,  my  brother!”  Just  as  we  reached  our  garden 
fence  we  heard  the  familiar  breakfast  drum,  and  saw  our 
father  and  Captain  Scott  walking  in  a somewhat  excited 
manner,  back  and  forth,  and  discussing  something,  we 


66 


“THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 


could  not  hear  what.  We  afterwards  learned  it  was  our 
conduct,  and  that  while  father  felt  that  we  should  at  least 
be  severely  reprimanded,  our  friend,  the  Captain,  made 
him  promise  he  would  say  nothing  in  the  way  of  reproof, 
until  he  had  drunk  his  coffee.  In  consequence  of  this  we 
were  simply  saluted  kindly,  but  not  warmly,  and  we 
followed  the  gentlemen  to  the  breakfast-room,  where  a 
rousing  fire  in  the  great  fireplace,  and  a most  appetizing 
breakfast  awaited  us,  which  our  long  tramp  in  the 
bitter  morning  air  had  prepared  us  to  enjoy  most  thor- 
oughly, notwithstanding  the  mental  disturbance  which 
could  not  be  allayed,  until  confession  had  been  made  and 
forgiveness  granted.  Just  as  our  meal  was  ending,  a 
soldier  entered  the  room,  and  said:  “ Malcolm,  there  is  an 
Indian  boy  here  with  a wolf,  who  wants  to  see  you.”  This 
announcement  brought  all  to  their  feet,  and  every  one 
rushed  out  so  see  the  sight,  and  there,  with  his  foot  fast  in 
our  trap,  lay  a large  timber-wolf,  exhausted  with  pain  and 
fatigue.  Captain  Scott  examining  him  carefully,  pro- 
nounced him  the  very  one  they  had  tried  in  vain  to 
capture,  and  he  congratulated  the  little  boy  and  girl  who 
had  succeeded  so  fully  where  older  ones  had  failed.  That 
was  a proud  moment  in  our  lives,  but  until  we  had  told 
our  parents  how  sorry  we  were  to  have  grieved  and  dis- 
tressed them,  and  had  obtained  full  pardon,  sealed  with  a 
loving  kiss  from  each,  we  could  not  wholly  enjoy  it.  Then 
we  gave  our  Indian  a royal  breakfast,  and  his  promised 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


6/ 


reward  beside,  and  the  wolf  was  taken  away  and  put  out 
of  his  misery,  while  beside  the  comfortable  fireside  we 
told  all  about  our  morning  walk,  from  reveille  to  break- 
fast-drum. 

After  this  Captain  Scott  took  me  to  the  Sutler’s  store, 
and  made  me  select  for  myself  a handsome  dress,  as  a 
present  from  him,  to  a brave  little  girl,  as  he  was  pleased 
to  call  me,  and  he  took  me  in  his  sleigh,  drawn  by  one  of 
his  beautiful  horses  (I  think  his  name  was  “Telegraph”), 
back  to  my  mother,  telling  her,  not  many  little  girls  of 
seven  years  old  could  go  out  before  breakfast  on  a cold 
morning,  and  chase  a wolf  so  successfully.  To  my  brother 
he  gave  a pretty  pony,  which  was  a never-ending  source 
of  joy  to  him,  and  which,  under  the  skillful  training  of 
the  mighty  hunter,  he  learned  to  ride  fearlessly  and  most 
gracefully. 

The  story  of  this,  my  first  and  last  wolf  hunt,  has  enter- 
tained children  and  grend-children,  not  only  mine,  but 
many  others,  and  has  been  repeated  so  often  that  it  has 
been  learned  by  heart,  so  that  if,  in  telling  it,  I have  some- 
times varied  the  phraseology,  I have  been  promptly  cor- 
rected and  set  right.  If  any  of  those,  once  my  little 
hearers,  should  read  this  written  history,  it  may  carry 
them  back  to  the  days  when  life  was  new  and  fresh,  and 
when  adventures  of  any  kind  seemed  greater  and  more 
important  than  they  do  now.  “God  bless  them,  every 
one.” 


CHAPTER  IX. 


RED  RIVER  OR  SELKIRK  SETTLEMENT. 

THE  story  of  the  early  days  of  Minnesota  would  be  in- 
complete without  a more  detailed  account  of  the  Red 
River  or  Selkirk  settlement  than  the  allusions  made  to  it 
in  the  history  of  the  Tully  boys,  and  turning  to  “Harpers 
Monthly”  of  December  1878,  I find  a most  satisfactory 
and  interesting  history  of  the  enterprise,  by  General  Chet- 
lain  of  Chicago,  who  is  a descendant  of  one  of  the  settlers 
and  is  so  well  and  favorably  known  in  the  Northwest  as 
to  need  no  introduction  from  me. 

After  speaking  of  the  disastrous  effect  of  the  Napoleonic 
wars  on  the  social  relations  of  Europe  he  alludes  to  the 
extreme  suffering  in  Central  Europe,  and  in  Switzerland 
particularly,  owing  to  a failure  of  crops  from  excessive 
rains  in  1816,  and  says:  “the  people  wearied  of  struggles 
which  resulted  in  their  impoverishment,  listened  eagerly 
to  the  story  of  a peaceful  and  more  prosperous  country 
beyond  the  sea.”  A few  years  earlier  Thomas  Dundas, 
Earl  of  Selkirk,  a distinguished  nobleman  of  great  wealth 
had  purchased  from  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  a large 
tract  of  land  in  British  America,  extending  from  the  Lake 
of  the  Woods  and  the  Winnipeg  River  eastward  for  nearly 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


69 


two  hundred  miles,  and  from  Lakes  Winnipeg  and  Mani- 
toba to  the  United  States  boundary,  part  of  which  is  now 
embraced  in  the  province  of  Manitoba  and  in  which  are 
the  fertile  lands  bordering  on  the  Red  and  Assinniboine 
Rivers.  It  formed  a part  of  “ Rupert  Land,”  named  in 
honor  of  Prince  Rupert  or  Robert  of  Bavaria,  a cousin  of 
King  Charles  II  of  England  and  one  of  the  founders  and 
chief  managers  of  the  “ Hudson  Bay  Company.”’  In  the 
year  1811  he  had  succeeded  in  planting  a large  colony  of 
Presbyterians  from  the  North  of  Scotland  on  the  Red 
River,  near  its  junction  with  the  Assinniboine;  this  was 
followed  four  years  later  by  another  but  smaller  colony 
from  the  same  section  of  Scotland.  In  consequence  of  the 
stubborn  competition  and  the  bitter  dissensions  between 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company  and  the  Northwest  Company 
of  Montreal,  these  were  compelled  to  abandon  their  new 
homes,  nearly  all  of  them  removing  to  Lower  Canada. 
This  Scotch  settlement  having  proved  almost  a total  fail- 
ure Lord  Selkirk  turned  his  attention  to  the  Swiss,  for 
whom  he  entertained  a great  regard.  By  glowing  accounts 
of  the  country,  and  by  the  offer  of  great  inducements, 
which  were  endorsed  by  the  British  government  whose 
policy  it  was  to  favor  these  emigration  schemes,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  persuading  many  young  and  middle  aged  men 
to  emigrate  to  this  new  world.  The  colony  numbered 
two  hundred  persons,  nearly  three-fourths  of  whom  were 
French  or  of  French  origin,  they  were  Protestants  and  be- 


70 


“THREE  score  years  and  ten.’"' 


longed  to  the  Lutheran  church.  Some  of  the  families 
were  descendants  of  the  Hugenots  of  Eastern  France,  all 
were  healthy  and  robust,  well  fitted  for  labor  in  a new 
country;  most  of  them  were  liberally  educated  and  pos- 
sessed of  considerable  means.  Among  the  more  promi- 
nent were  Monier  and  Rindesbacher,  Dr.  Ostertag,  Chet- 
lain  and  Descombes,  Schirmer,  afterwards  a leading  jew- 
eller at  Galena,  Illinois,  Quinche  and  Langet.  In  May 
1821,  they  assembled  at  a small  village  on  the  Rhine  near 
Basle  and  in  two  large  flat-boats  or  barges,  floated  down 
the  Rhine,  reaching  a point  nearRotterdam  where  a staunch 
ship,  the  “ Lord  Wellington  ” was  in  readiness  to  take  them 
to  their  new  home  towards  the  setting  sun.  Their  course 
lay  North  of  Great  Britain  and  just  South  of  Greenland  to 
Hudson  Strait.  After  a tedious  and  most  uncomfortable 
journey  they  arrived  at  Hudson  Strait,  and  after  a hard 
journey  of  four  months  they  landed  at  Fort  York.  Em- 
barking in  batteaux  they  ascended  the  Nelson  River,  and 
at  the  end  of  twenty  days  reached  Lake  Winnipeg,  and 
after  encountering  all  manner  of  discouragements  arrived 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Red  River,  only  to  learn  that  the 
locusts  or  grasshoppers  had  been  before  them,  and  had 
literally  destroyed  all  the  crops.  With  heavy  hearts  they 
proceeded  up  the  river  thirty-five  miles  to  Fort  Douglas, 
near  the  site  of  the  present  Fort  Garey,  then  the  principal 
trading  post  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  Governor 
Alexander  McDowell  and  the  other  officers  of  the  com- 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


pany  welcomed  them  cordially  and  did  what  was  in  their 
power  to  supply  their  wants  and  make  them  comfortable, 
but  they  were  by  no  means  able  to  furnish  them  with  sup- 
plies for  the  coming  winter,  and  as  it  was  terribly  severe 
there  was  untold  suffering  among  them.  But  by  scatter- 
ing to  different  points  and  struggling  bravely  against  great 
difficulties,  they  managed  to  exist  and  some  of  them  in 
time  made  permanent  homes  for  themselves,  while  others 
feeling  they  could  not  content  themselves  in  what  had 
impressed  them  as  an  inhospitable  country,  left  the  settle- 
ment as  opportunity  offered  and  came  nearer  civilization. 
As  early  as  1821,  some  who  had  put  themselves  under  the 
protection  of  a party  of  armed  drovers,  on  their  return  to 
the  States,  having  taken  some  cattle  to  the  settlers,  ar- 
rived at  Fort  Snelling  and  were  kindly  cared  for  by  Col- 
onel Josiah  Snelling  who  consented  to  let  them  remain  at 
the  fort  during  the  winter.  The  next  spring  they  settled 
on  the  military  reservation  near  the  fort  and  made  homes 
for  themselves.  I well  remember  my  mother’s  descrip- 
tions of  these  emigrants  as  they  arrived,  so  nearly  fam- 
ished, that  the  surgeon  was  obliged  to  restrict  the  amount 
of  provisions  furnished  them  lest  they  might  eat  them- 
selves to  death. 

In  the  spring  of  1823,  thirteen  more  of  the  colonists 
started  to  go  to  Missouri,  of  which  country  they  had 
heard  glowing  accounts.  They  made  the  journey  as  far 
as  Lake  Traverse,  the  headwaters  of  the  St.  Peter’s  river, 


72  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

four  hundred  miles,  in  Red  River  carts,  which  need  no  de- 
scription here;  where  they  remained  long  enough  to  make 
canoes,  or  dugouts,  of  the  cottonwood  trees  abundant 
there,  when  they  began  the  descent  of  the  river,  and  after 
perils  by  land  and  by  water,  and  perils  by  savages,  who 
were  very  hostile  to  them,  they  reached  “St.  Anthony”  in 
September,  and  were  warmly  welcomed  by  the  friends 
who  had  preceded  them  two  years  before.  After  a few 
weeks  rest,  our  Colonel  furnished  them  with  two  small 
keel-boats  and  supplies  for  their  journey,  and  they  went 
on  their  way  comforted  and  encouraged.  But  probably 
from  the  effects  of  the  fatigue  and  hardships  of  their  long 
and  wearisome  journey,  and  from  the  malarial  influences, 
at  that  time  prevalent  on  the  river,  several  sickened,  and 
Mr.  Monier,  the  senior  of  the  party,  and  his  daughter, 
died  and  were  buried  near  Prairie  du  Chien.  Mr.  Chetlain 
also  became  so  ill  that  he  and  his  family  remained  at 
Rock  Island  until  his  recovery,  when  he  joined  his  friends 
at  St.  Louis,  but  finally  settled  at  La  Pointe,  on  Fever 
River,  where  now  stands  the  city  of  Galena,  Illinois. 

In  the  spring  of  1826,  owing  to  the  great  rise  of  water 
in  the  Mississippi  and  its  tributaries,  and  in  the  Red  and 
Assinniboine  rivers,  caused  by  the  unusual  deep  snow  of 
the  preceding  winter,  which  had  melted  with  warm  and 
heavy  rains,  the  losses  sustained  by  the  settlers  at  La 
Fourche  were  so  heavy  that  no  attempt  was  made  to  re- 
pair them,  and  nearly  all  the  French  settlers  there  became 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


73 


thoroughly  discouraged  and  left  their  home.  Over  the 
same  route  their  friends  had  traveled  three  years  before 
they  came  to  Fort  Snelling,  and  nearly  all  took  passage 
in  a small  steamboat  for  the  lead  mines  at  and  near  La 
Pointe,  Illinois. 

I remember  well  when  this  party  arrived.  One  of  them, 
a very  pretty  girl  named  Elise,  was  employed  in  our  fam- 
ily as  a nurse  for  our  baby  sister,  and  remained  with  us 
some  time. 

General  Chetlaine  closes  his  very  interesting  article 
thus:  “The  descendants  of  these  colonists  are  numerous, 
and  are  found  scattered  throughout  the  Northwest,  the 
greater  part  being  in  the  region  of  the  lead  mines.  Most 
of  them  are  thrifty  farmers  and  stock  breeders.  A few 
have  entered  the  professions  and  trade.  All,  as  far  as 
is  known,  are  temperate,  industrious,  and  law-abiding 
citizens.” 


CHAPTER  X. 


RUNNING  THE  GAUNTLET. 

LIKE  the  old  man  in  Dickens’  “Child’s  Story,”  “ I am 
always  remembering;  come  and  remember  with 
me.”  I close  my  eyes  and  recall  an  evening  some  sixty 
years  ago,  when  in  one  of  the  stone  cottages  near  Fort 
Snelling,  which  was  our  home  at  that  time,  a pleasant 
company  of  officers  and  their  families  were  spending  a 
social  evening  with  my  parents. 

The  doors  were  thrown  open,  for  the  weather  was  warm, 
and  one  of  the  officers,  Captain  Cruger,  was  walking  on 
the  piazza,  when  we  were  all  startled  by  the  sound  of  rapid 
firing  near  us.  The  Captain  rushed  into  the  house,  much 
agitated,  exclaiming:  “That  bullet  almost  grazed  my 
ear!”  What  could  it  mean?  Were  the  Indians  surround- 
ing us?  Soon  the  loud  yells  and  shrieks  from  the  Indian 
camp  near  our  house  made  it  evident  that  the  treaty  of 
peace  made  that  afternoon  between  the  Sioux  and  Chip- 
pewas  had  ended,  as  all  those  treaties  did,  in  treachery 
and  bloodshed.  The  principal  men  of  the  two  nations 
had  met  at  the  Indian  Agency,  and  in  the  presence  of 
Major  Taliaferro,  their  “ White  Father,”  had  made  a solemn 
treaty  of  peace.  In  the  evening,  at  the  wigwam  of  the 
Chippewa  chief,  they  had  ratified  this  treaty  by  smoking 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


75 


the  pipe  of  peace  together,  and  then,  before  the  smoke  of 
the  emblematic  pipe  had  cleared  away,  the  treacherous 
Sioux  had  gone  out  and  deliberately  fired  into  the  wig- 
wam, killing  and  wounding  several  of  the  unsuspecting  in- 
mates. The  Chippewas,  of  course,  returned  the  fire,  and 
this  was  what  had  startled  us  all  and  broken  up  the  pleas- 
ant little  gathering  at  my  father’s  house.  The  Chippe- 
was, with  their  wounded,  sought  refuge  and  protection 
within  the  walls  of  the  fort,  commanded  at  that  time  by 
Colonel  Snelling.  They  were  kindly  cared  for,  and  the 
wounded  were  tenderly  nursed  in  our  hospital.  One,  a 
little  girl,  daughter  of  the  chief,  excited  much  sympathy, 
and  I cannot  forget  the  interest  I felt  in  her,  for  she  was 
but  a year  or  two  older  than  myself,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
so  cruel  to  ruthlessly  put  out  her  young  life.  I remember 
the  ladies  of  the  fort  were  very  kind  and  tender  to  her, 
and,  since  I have  had  little  girls  of  my  own,  I know  why. 
She  lingered  but  a few  days,  in  great  agony,  and  then  God 
took  her  out  of  her  pain  to  that  land  where  the  poor  little 
wandering,  wounded  child  should  know  sin  or  suffering  no 
more. 

Meanwhile  our  prompt  and  efficient  Colonel  demanded 
of  the  Sioux  the  murderers,  and  in  a very  few  days  a body 
of  Sioux  were  seen,  as  we  supposed  to  deliver  up  the 
criminals.  Two  companies  of  soldiers  were  sent  to  meet 
them  and  receive  the  murderers  at  their  hands.  Strange 
to  say,  although  they  had  the  men,  they  refused  to  give 


76 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


them  up,  when  our  interpreter  (I  cannot  recall  his  name) 
stepped  out  from  among  our  soldiers,  and  said:  “If  you 
do  not  yield  up  these  men  peaceably,  then,  as  many  leaves 
as  there  are  on  these  trees,  as  many  blades  of  grass  as  you 
see  beneath  your  feet,  so  many  white  men  will  come  upon 
you,  burn  your  villages  and  destroy  your  nation.” 

A few  moments’  consideration,  a few  hurried  words  of 
consultation,  and  the  guilty  men  were  handed  over  to  our 
troops.  The  tribe  followed  as  they  were  taken  into  the 
fort,  and,  making  a small  fire  within  the  walls,  the  con- 
demned men  marched  round  and  round  it,  singing  their 
death  songs,  and  then  were  given  up  to  be  put  in  irons 
and  held  in  custody  until  time  should  determine  how 
many  lives  should  pay  the  forfeit,  for  it  is  well  known  that 
Indian  revenge  is  literally  a life  for  a life,  and  the  Colonel 
had  decided  to  give  them  into  the  hands  of  the  injured 
tribe,  to  be  punished  according  to  their  own  customs. 

Some  weeks  passed,  and  it  was  found  that  five  lives 
were  to  be  paid  for  in  kind.  A council  of  Chippewas  de- 
cided that  the  five  selected  from  the  prisoners  should  run 
the  gauntlet,  and  it  was  approved.  And  now,  back  over 
the  lapse  of  many  years  I pass,  and  seem  to  be  a child 
again,  standing  beside  my  only  brother,  at  the  back  door 
of  my  father’s  house.  The  day  is  beautiful;  the  sun  is  so 
bright;  the  grass  so  green,  all  nature  so  smiling,  it  is 
hard  to  realize  what  is  going  on  over  yonder,  by  the  grave- 
yard, in  that  crowd  of  men  and  women  ; for  there  are 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


77 


gathered  together  the  Chippewas,  old  and  young  men, 
women  and  children,  who  have  come  out  to  witness  or 
take  part  in  this  act  of  retributive  justice.  There  are  blue 
coats,  too,  and  various  badges  of  ourU.  S.  uniform;  for  it  is 
necessary  to  hold  some  restraint  over  these  red  men,  or 
there  may  be  wholesale  murder  ; and  borne  on  the  shoul- 
ders of  his  young  men,  we  see  the  form  of  the  wounded, 
dying  chief,  regarding  all  with  calm  satisfaction,  and  no 
doubt  happy  in. the  thought  that  his  death,  now  so  near, 
will  not  go  unavenged.  And  there  stand  the  young  braves 
who  have  been  selected  as  the  executioners  ; their  rifles 
are  loaded,  the  locks  carefully  examined,  and  all  is  ready 
when  the  word  shall  be  given.  There,  too,  under  guard, 
are  the  five  doomed  men,  who  are  to  pay  the  forfeit  for 
the  five  lives  so  wantonly  and  treacherously  taken. 

Away  off,  I can  not  tell  how  many  rods,  but  it  seemed 
to  us  children  a long  run , are  stationed  the  Sioux  tribe  ; 
and  that  is  the  goal  for  which  the  wretched  men  must  run 
for  their  lives. 

And  now,  all  seems  ready  ; the  bolts  and  chains  are 
knocked  off,  and  the  captives  are  set  free.  At  a word, 
one  of  them  starts  ; the  rifles,  with  unerring  aim,  are  fired, 
and  under  cover  of  the  smoke  a man  falls  dead.  They 
reload  ; the  word  is  given,  and  another  starts,  with  a bound, 
for  home ; but,  ah  ! the  aim  of  those  clear-sighted,  blood- 
thirsty men  is  too  deadly  ; and  so,  one  after  another,  till 
four  are  down. 


78 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


And  then  the  last,  “ Little  Six”,  whom,  at  a distance, 
we  children  readily  recognize  from  his  commanding  height 
and  graceful  form  ; he  is  our  friend,  and  we  hope  he  will 
get  home.  He  starts  ; they  fire  ; the  smoke  clears  away, 
and  still  he  is  running.  We  clap  our  hands  and  say,  “ He 
will  get  home  !”  but,  another  volley,  and  our  favorite, 
almost  at  the  goal,  springs  into  the  air  and  comes  down — 
dead!  I cover  my  face,  and  shed  tears  of  real  sorrow  for 
our  friend. 

And  now  follows  a scene  that  beggars  description.  The 
bodies,  all  warm  and  limp,  are  dragged  to  the  brow  of  the 
hill.  Men,  who  at  the  sight  of  blood  become  fiends,  tear 
off  the  scalps,  and  hand  them  to  the  chief,  who  hangs 
them  around  his  neck.  Women  and  children  with  tom- 
ahawks and  knives,  cut  deep  gashes  in  the  poor  dead 
bodies,  and  scooping  up  the  hot  blood  with  their  hands, 
eagerly  drink  it.  Then,  grown  frantic,  they  dance  and 
yell,  and  sing  their  horrid  scalp-songs,  recounting  deeds 
of  valor  on  the  part  of  their  brave  men,  and  telling  off 
the  Sioux  scalps  taken  in  former  battles,  until,  at  last,  tired 
and  satiated  with  their  ghoul-like  feast,  they  leave  the  mu- 
tilated bodies  festering  in  the  sun.  At  nightfall  they  are 
thrown  over  the  bluff  into  the  river,  and  my  brother  and 
myself,  awe-struck  and  quiet,  trace  their  hideous  voyage 
down  the  Mississippi  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  We  lie 
awake  at  night  talking  of  the  dreadful  thing  we  have  seen; 
and  we  try  to  imagine  what  the  people  of  New  Orleans 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


79 


will  think  when  they  see  those  ghastly  up-turned  faces ; and 
we  talk  with  quivering  lips  and  tearful  eyes  of  “ Little 
Six,”  and  the  many  kind  things  he  has  done  for  us — the 
bows  and  arrows,  the  mocauks  of  sugar,  the  pretty  beaded 
moccasins  he  has  given  us  ; and  we  wish,  oh  ! we  wish  he 
could  have  run  faster,  or  that  the  Chippewa  rifles  had 
missed  fire.  And  we  sleep  and  dream  of  scalps,  and  rifles, 
and  war-whoops,  and  frightful  yells,  and  wake  wishing  it 
had  all  been  a dream. 

Next  day  the  chief  sat  up  in  bed,  painted  himself  for 
death,  sang  his  death  song,  and,  with  those  five  fresh, 
bloody  scalps  about  his  neck,  lay  down  and  died  calmly 
and  peacefully  in  the  comfortable  hope,  no  doubt,  of  a 
welcome  in  the  “ happy  hunting  grounds,”  prepared  by 
the  “Good  Spirit”  for  all  those  Indians  who  are  faithful 
to  their  friends,  and  avenge  themselves  upon  their  foes. 

A few  years  ago,  I told  this  story  to  another  “ Little 
Six.”  “ Old  Shakopee,”  as  he  lay  with  gyves  upon  his 
legs,  in  our  guard  house  at  Fort  Snelling,  awaiting  execu- 
tion for  almost  numberless  cold-blooded  murders,  perpe- 
trated during  the  dreadful  massacre  of  ’62.  He  remem- 
bered it  all,  and  his  wicked  old  face  lighted  up  with  joy 
as  he  told  me  he  was  the  son  of  that  “ Little  Six  ” who 
made  so  brave  a run  for  his  life,  and  he  showed  as  much 
pride  and  pleasure  in  listening  to  the  story  of  his  father’s 
treacherous  conduct,  as  the  children  of  our  great  generals 
will  do  some  day,  when  they  read  or  hear  of  deeds  of 
bravery  or  daring  that  their  fathers  have  done. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE  incident  recorded  in  the  preceding  chapter  oc- 
curred in  June,  1827,  and  in  the  autumn  of  the  same 
year  two  companies  of  our  command  were  ordered  to 
Prairie  du  Chien  to  strengthen  the  garrison  there,  in  an- 
ticipation of  trouble  with  the  Indians.  One  of  these  was 
Company  “C”,  commanded  by  our  father;  the  other  com- 
pany was  in  command  of  Captain  Scott. 

We  had  become  so  attached  to  a home  so  filled  with 
peculiar  and  very  tender  associations  that  our  hearts  were 
sad  indeed  when  we  bade  “good  bye”  to  all,  and  from  the 
deck  of  the  steamer  took  our  last  look  at  the  beloved  fort 
where  we  had  lived  so  many  years.  In  later  years  when 
passing  the  spot  where  we  bade  farewell  to  the  flag  which 
floated  over  headquarters  on  that  bright  morning  long  ago, 
I involuntarily  look  up  at  the  beautiful  banner  still  waving 
there,  and  a tender,  reverential  awe  steals  over  me,  as  when 
standing  by  the  grave  of  a friend  long  buried. 

We  had  hardly  been  a year  at  Fort  Crawford  when  my 
father  was  detailed  on  recruiting  service,  and  ordered  to 
Nashville,  Tennessee.  This  was  in  1828,  memorable  as 
the  year  of  the  presidential  campaign  which  resulted  in 
the  election  to  that  high  office  of  General  Andrew  Jack- 
son.  When  our  friend  Mr.  Parton  was  writing  his  “ Life 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


of  Jackson,”  I gave  him,  at  his  request,  my  impressions  as 
a child,  of  the  great  man,  with  whom  we  were  daily  and 
intimately  associated,  and  now  transfer  those  impressions 
from  that  great  work,  “Parton’s  Life  of  Jackson, ”to  the 
pages  of  this  unpretentious  record  of  past  times. 

At  the  time  referred  to,  our  family  boarded  at  the  “Nash- 
ville Inn,”  kept  by  a Mr.  Edmonson,  the  home  of  all  the 
military  officers  whom  duty  or  pleasure  called  to  Nash- 
ville. It  had  also  been  for  a long  time  the  stopping  place 
of  General  Jackson  and  his  wife,  whenever  they  left  their 
beloved  “Hermitage”  for  a temporary  sojourn  in  the  city. 
Eating  at  the  same  table  with  persons  who  attracted  so 
much  attention,  and  meeting  them  familiarly  in  the  public 
and  private  sitting  rooms  of  the  hotel,  I of  course  felt 
well  acquainted  with  them,  and  my  recollections  of  them 
are  very  vivid  even  now.  The  General’s  appearance  has 
been  so  often  and  correctly  described  that  it  would  seem 
almost  unnecessary  to  touch  upon  it  here;  but  it  will  do  no 
harm  to  give  my  impressions  of  him. 

Picture  to  yourself  a military-looking  man,  above  the 
ordinary  height,  dressed  plainly,  but  with  great  neatness; 
dignified  and  grave — I had  almost  said  stern,  but  always 
courteous  and  affable;  with  keen,  searching  eyes,  iron-gray 
hair  standing  stiffly  up  from  an  expansive  forehead;  a face 
somewhat  furrowed  by  care  and  time,  and  expressive  of 
deep  thought  and  active  intellect,  and  you  have  before 
you  the  General  Jackson  who  has  lived  in  my  memory 


82 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.'" 


from  my  childhood.  Side  by  side  with  him  stands  a 
coarse-looking,  stout  little  old  woman,  whom  you  might 
easily  mistake  for  his  washerwoman,  were  it  not  for  the 
marked  attention  he  pays  her,  and  the  love  and  admira- 
tion she  manifests  for  him.  Her  eyes  are  bright,  and  ex- 
press great  kindness  of  heart;  her  face  is  rather  broad,  her 
features  plain,  her  complexion  so  dark  as  almost  to  suggest 
a mingling  of  races  in  that  climate  where  such  things 
sometimes  occur.  But  withal,  her  face  is  so  good  natured 
and  motherly,  that  you  immediately  feel  at  ease  with  her, 
however  shy  you  may  be  of  the  stately  person  by  her  side. 
Her  figure  is  rather  full,  but  loosely  and  carelessly  dressed, 
with  no  regard  to  the  fashions  of  the  day,  so  that,  when 
she  is  seated,  she  seems  to  settle  into  herself,  in  a manner 
that  is  neither  graceful  nor  elegant.  I have  seen  such  forms 
since,  and  have  thought  I should  like  to  experiment  upon 
them  with  French  corsets,  to  see  what  they  would  look 
like  if  they  were  gathered  into  some  permanent  shape. 
This  is  Mrs.  Jackson.  I have  heard  my  mother  say,  she 
could  imagine  that  in  her  early  youth,  at  the  time  the 
General  yielded  to  her  fascinations,  she  may  have  been  a 
bright,  sparkling  brunette,  perhaps  may  have  even  passed 
for  a beauty;  but  being  without  any  culture,  and  out  of  the 
way  of  refining  influences,  she  was  at  the  time  we  knew  her, 
such  as  I have  described.  Their  affection  for  each  other 
was  of  the  tenderest  kind.  The  General  always  treated  her 
as  if  she  was  his  pride  and  glory,  and  words  can  faintly  de- 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


83 


scribe  her  devotion  to  him.  The  “Nashville  Inn”  was  at 
this  time  filled  with  celebrities,  nearly  all  warm  supporters 
of  the  General.  The  Stokes  family,  of  North  Carolina,  were 
there,  particular  friends  of  his;  the  Blackburns,  and  many 
other  old  families,  whose  names  have  escaped  my  mem- 
ory. I well  recollect  to  what  disadvantage  Mrs.  Jackson 
appeared,  with  her  dowdyfied  figure,  her  inelegant  con- 
versation, and  her  total  want  of  refinement,  in  the  midst 
of  this  bevy  of  highly-cultivated,  aristocratic  women;  and 
I recall  very  distinctly  how  the  ladies  of  the  Jackson  party 
hovered  near  her  at  all  times,  apparently  to  save  her  from 
saying  or  doing  anything  which  might  do  discredit  to 
their  idol.  With  all  her  disadvantages  in  externals,  I know 
she  was  really  beloved.  She  was  a truly  good  woman,  the 
very  soul  of  benevolence  and  kindness,  and  one  almost 
overlooked  her  deficiencies  in  the  knowledge  of  her  intrin- 
sic worth  and  her  real  goodness  of  heart.  With  a differ- 
ent husband,  and  under  different  circumstances,  she  might 
have  appeared  to  greater  advantage,  but  there  could  not 
be  a more  striking  contrast  than  was  manifest  in  this  dig- 
nified, grand-looking  man  and  this  plain,  common-looking 
little  woman.  And  the  strangest  of  it  all  was,  the  General 
did  not  seem  at  all  aware  of  it.  She  was  his  ideal  of  every 
thing  that  was  good,  and  loving,  and  true,  and,  utterly 
unconscious  of  any  external  deficiencies,  he  yielded  her 
the  entire  homage  of  his  own  brave,  loyal  heart.  My 
father  visited  them  more  than  once  at  the  Hermitage.  It 


84  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

was  customary  for  the  officers  of  the  army  to  do  this,  as 
a mark  of  respect  to  the  General,  and  they  frequently  re- 
mained at  their  hospitable  mansion  several  days  at  a time. 
The  latch-string  was  always  out,  and  all  who  visited  them 
were  made  welcome,  and  felt  themselves  at  home. 

An  anecdote  which  my  father  told  us,  characteristic  of 
Mrs.  Jackson,  impressed  my  young  mind  very  forcibly. 
After  the  evening  meal  at  the  Hermitage,  as  he  and  some 
other  officers  were  seated  with  the  worthy  couple  by  their 
ample  fireplace,  Mrs.  Jackson,  as  was  her  favorite  custom, 
lighted  her  pipe,  and  having  taken  a whiff  or  two,  handed  it 
to  my  father,  saying,  “ Honey,  won’t  you  take  a smoke?” 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  people  of  Nashville  for  their  fav- 
orite has  been  descanted  upon,  years  ago.  I remember 
well  the  extravagant  demonstrations  of  it,  especially  after 
the  result  of  the  election  was  known.  I walked  the  streets 
with  my  father  the  night  of  the  illuminations  and  saw  but 
two  houses  not  lighted  up,  and  these  were  both  mobbed. 
One  was  the  mansion  of  Judge  McNairy,  who  was  once  a 
friend  of  Jackson,  but  for  some  reason  became  opposed 
to  him,  and  at  that  time  was  one  of  the  very  few  Whigs 
in  Nashville.  On  that  triumphant  night  the  band  played 
the  hymn  familiar  to  all,  beginning:  “Blow  ye  the  trumpet 
blow,”  and  ending:  “The  year  of  Jubilee  is  come,  return 
ye  ransomed  people  home.”  This  certainly  looked  like 
deifying  the  man  they  delighted  to  honor,  and  I remember 
it  seemed  very  wicked  to  me.  When  the  old  man  finally 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  85 

started  for  Washington,  a crowd  of  ladies  were  assembled 
on  the  piazza  of  the  hotel,  overlooking  the  Cumberland 
river  to  “see  the  conquering  hero  go.”  I mingled  with 
them  and  distinctly  remember  hearing  one  lady  say  she 
had  had  a good-bye  kiss  from  the  General,  and  she  should 
not  wash  it  off  for  a month.  Oh!  what  a noise  there  was! 
A parrot,  which  had  been  brought  up  a democrat,  was 
“hurrahing  for  Jackson,”  and  the  clapping  of  hands,  the 
shouting,  and  waving  of  handkerchiefs  have  seldom  been 
equalled.  When  the  steamboat  passed  out  of  sight,  and 
all  realized  that  he  was  really  gone,  the  city  seemed  to 
subside  and  settle  down,  as  if  the  object  of  its  being  was 
accomplished. 

But  the  sad  part  of  my  remembrances,  is  the  death  of 
Mrs.  Jackson.  Early  one  bright  pleasant  morning  my 
father  was  putting  on  his  uniform  to  go  with  the  other 
officers  then  in  the  city,  to  the  Hermitage  to  escort  the 
President-elect  to  Nashville.  Before  he  had  completed 
his  toilet  a black  man  left  at  the  door  a hand-bill  announc- 
ing Mrs.  Jackson’s  death,  and  requesting  the  officers  to 
come  to  the  Hermitage  at  a time  specified,  with  the  usual 
badges  of  mourning,  to  attend  her  funeral.  She  had  died 
very  suddenly  at  night,  without  any  apparent  disease,  it 
being  very  generally  supposed  that  her  death  was  occa- 
sioned by  excess  of  joy  at  her  husband’s  election.  When 
it  was  discovered  that  she  was  dead,  the  grief-stricken 


86 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


husband  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  part  with  her 
body,  but  held  it  tightly  in  his  arms  until  almost  forced 
from  his  embrace. 

This  news  caused  great  commotion.  Many  ladies  went 
out  from  the  city  to  superintend  the  funeral  arrange- 
ments, and  displayed  more  zeal  than  judgment  by  array- 
ing the  body  in  white  satin,  with  kid  gloves  and  slippers. 
Pearl  ear-rings  and  necklace  were  likewise  placed  upon  it; 
but,  at  the  suggestion  of  some  whose  good  sense  had  not 
entirely  forsaken  them,  I believe,  these  ornaments  were 
removed.  The  day  of  the  funeral,  proving  damp  and 
drizzly,  the  walk  from  the  house  to  the  grave  was  thickly 
laid  with  cotton  for  the  procession  to  pass  over. 

Notwithstanding  the  grief  displayed  by  the  friends  of 
this  really  good  and  noble  woman,  on  account  of  her  sud- 
den death,  it  was  supposed  by  many,  that  after  all,  they 
felt  it  a relief ; for  it  had  been  a matter  of  great  anxiety 
how  she  would  appear  as  mistress  of  the  White  House, 
especially  as  some  of  her  warm,  but  injudicious  friends, 
had  selected  and  prepared  an  outfit  for  the  occasion,  more 
suitable  for  a young  and  blooming  bride  than  for  a homely, 
withered  looking  old  woman. 

During  the  war  of  the  rebellion,  as  the  Fifth  Division 
of  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  was  marching  from  Gal- 
latin to  camp  near  Nashville,  the  General  in  command 
arranged  that  myself  and  daughter,  who  were  visiting  the 
army  and  keeping  with  them  from  day  to  day,  should  call 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


87 


at  the  Hermitage,  as  the  troops  passed  near.  An  escort 
was  furnished  us;  and  we  turned  off  in  our  ambulance  at 
the  nearest  point.  We  soon  reached  the  great  gate,  and, 
passing  up  the  avenue  of  dark,  sombre  evergreens,  to  the 
broad  piazza  of  the  historic  old  mansion,  were  received  by 
the  hostess,  the  wife  of  General  Jackson’s  adopted  son. 
Our  reception,  while  not  uncivil,  was  certainly  frigid,  and 
we  had  expected  nothing  more  cordial  from  those  who 
called  us  their  enemies.  After  a short,  constrained  conver- 
sation, we  were  shown  the  General’s  room,  and  some  por- 
traits of  distinguished  people  on  the  walls,  and  were  then 
conducted  to  the  tomb  at  the  foot  of  the  garden,  where 
husband  and  wife  lie  side  by  side  under  a canopy  supported 
by  marble  pillars  and  shaded  by  magnolia  trees,  whose 
rich,  glossy  leaves  and  royal  white  blossoms  made  the 
sacred  spot  a lovely  resting  place  for  the  old  man  and  his 
beloved  Rachel.  On  the  tablet,  which  covers  her  remains, 
we  readthe  following  inscription,  prepared  by  her  husband: 

“ Here  lie  the  remains  of  Mrs.  Rachel  Jackson,  wife  of 
President  Jackson,  who  died  the  twenty-second  of  Decem- 
ber, 1828,  aged  sixty-one.  Her  face  was  fair;  her  person, 
pleasing;  her  temper,  amiable;  her  heart,  kind;  she  de- 
lighted in  relieving  the  wants  of  her  fellow  creatures,  and 
cultivated  that  divine  pleasure  by  the  most  liberal  and 
unpretending  methods.  To  the  poor,  she  was  a benefactor; 
to  the  rich,  an  example;  to  the  wretched,  a comforter,  to  the 
prosperous,  an  ornament;  her  piety  went  hand  in  hand  with 


88 


‘THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 


her  benevolence;  and  she  thanked  her  Creator  for  being 
permitted  to  do  good.  A being  so  gentle  and  so  virtuous, 
slander  might  wound  but  could  not  dishonor.  Even  death, 
when  he  tore  her  from  the  arms  of  her  husband,  could  but 
transport  her  to  the  bosom  of  her  God.” 

At  his  own  special  request,  the  tablet  which  marks  the 
spot  where  he  rests,  has  only  this  simple  record: 

“ General  Andrew  Jackson. 

Born  on  the  15th  of  March,  1767  ; 

Died  on  the  8th  offline,  1845” 

Among  the  notable  persons  whom  we  frequently  met 
during  the  year  of  our  sojourn  in  Nashville,  was  Samuel 
Houston,  since  so  thoroughly  identified  with  the  early  his- 
tory of  Texas.  He  was  at  that  time  moving  in  gay  society, 
was  called  an  elegant  gentleman,  was  very  fine  looking  and 
very  vain  of  his  personal  appearance;  but  domestic  trou- 
bles completely  changed  his  whole  life,  and  leaving  his 
wife  and  family,  he  abjured  the  world  and  went  into  exile, 
as  he  termed  it.  While  we  were  in  Smithland,  Kentucky, 
to  which  place  our  father  had  been  ordered  from  Nash- 
ville, he  stopped  with  us  on  his  way  to  the  wilderness,  and 
excited  our  childish  admiration  by  his  fanciful  hunter’s 
garb  and  the  romance  which  surrounded  him.  I remem- 
ber, too,  that  he  begged  a fine  greyhound  and  a pointer 
from  my  brother,  who  gave  them  up,  but  not  without  a 
great  struggle  with  himself,  for  he  loved  them, — little 
thinking  then,  dear  boy,  that  this  man,  fantastically  clad 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  89 

in  buckskin,  would  one  day,  as  President  of  Texas,  repay 
him  amply  by  delivering  him  from  a great  peril. 

I record  here  a reminiscence  of  Smithland  which  stamps 
that  little  town,  and  its  surroundings,  indelibly  upon  my 
memory.  One  day,  as  my  brother  and  I were  at  play  in 
front  of  the  recruiting  office,  which  was  situated  on  the 
one  long  street,  near  the  river  bank,  a steamboat,  with  its 
flag  flying,  came  down  the  Ohio  and  rounded  to  at  the 
wharf.  As  it  made  the  turn,  we  noticed  that  the  deck  was 
crowded  with  negroes,  and  we  heard  them  singing  some 
of  their  camp  meeting  hymns  in  a way  to  touch  all  hearts. 
The  strain  was  in  a minor  key,  and,  as  the  poor  creatures 
swayed  their  bodies  back  and  forth  and  clapped  their 
hands  at  intervals,  we  were  strangely  moved;  and  when, 
the  landing  being  effected,  and  the  gang-plank  arranged, 
they  came  off,  chained  in  pairs , and  were  marched,  still 
singing,  to  a shed  prepared  for  them,  we  could  not  keep 
back  the  tears.  The  overseer,  a great  strong  man,  crack- 
ing his  “ blacksnake  ” from  time  to  time,  to  enforce 
authority,  excited  our  strong  indignation.  All  this  is  an 
impossibility  now,  thank  God,  but  then  it  was  a cruel, 
dreadful  reality.  Like  cattle,  they  were  penned  for  the 
night,  and  were  to  be  kept  there  for  a day  or  two,  till 
another  boat  should  take  them  to  New  Orleans  to  be  sold 
for  the  cane  brake  and  the  cotton  field.  They  had  been 
bought  by  the  dealer  in  men  and  women,  who  had  them 
in  charge, at  the  slave  pen  in  Washington,  the  capital  of  the 


90 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


United  States.  For  aught  I know,  Uncle  Tom  may  have 
been  among  them,  destined  for  the  genial,  easy-going  St. 
Clare  and  finally  to  pass  into  the  hands  of  Legree,  the 
brute  who  was  to  whip  him  to  death.  The  next  morning 
a bright  mulatto  woman  surprised  us,  as  we  were  at  break- 
fast, by  coming  into  our  room  and  begging  my  father  to 
purchase  her.  I never  knew  how  she  managed  to  do 
this,  I only  know  she  stood  before  our  free,  happy  house- 
hold pleading  most  earnestly,  said  she  was  not  a field  hand, 
was  a good  house  servant  in  her  master’s  family  where 
she  was  born  and  raised,  and  had  been  sold,  “because 
massa  died,  and  de  family  was  too  poor  to  keep  me;  I’se 
a fustrate  cook,  and ’d  sarve  you  faithful;  and,  oh,  mistis,” 
turning  to  my  mother,  “ I’se  lef’  little  chillun  in  de  ole 
Virginny  home,  and  if  you  buys  me,  may  be  I might  see  um 
again  sometime.”  But  it  could  not  be,  and  the  poor  sor- 
rowing mother  went  back  to  the  gang,  whose  breaking 
hearts  were  pining  for  home  and  dear  ones  they  could 
never  again  behold.  And  one  morning  they  were  driven 
onto  another  boat,  and  passing  slowly  out  of  sight,  sang, 
as  they  sailed  down  the  river  to  their  doom,  “ swing  low, 
sweet  chariot,”  etc. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


CINCINNATI. 

FROM  this  Kentucky  town,  his  two  years  of  service  as 
recruiting  officer  having  ended,  our  father  was  or- 
dered to  Fort  Howard,  Green  Bay;  but,  being  desirous 
that  his  children  should  have  the  advantage  of  the  schools 
in  Cincinnati,  which  at  that  time  were  considered  excep- 
tionally excellent,  he  established  us  in  that  city  in  a pretty 
home  of  our  own,  and  for  the  first  time  the  family  was 
separated,  he  going  alone  to  his  post,  while  mother  and 
children  remained  in  Ohio.  In  1829  Cincinnati  was  very 
different  from  the  great  city  which  now  spreads  out  over 
the  beautiful  hills,  and  extends  miles  on  “ La  Belle 
Riviere.”  It  was  a pretty,  flourishing,  clean  town,  and  for 
us  it  was  a delightful  home,  the  dense  smoke  from  the  in- 
numerable industries,  now  hanging  like  a pall  over  the 
valley,  was  not  known  then,  and  the  atmosphere  was  clear 
and  bright.  Nicholas  Longworth  was  the  great  man  then; 
his  strawberries  and  his  beautiful  gardens  were  famous, 
and  his  sudden  rise  from  comparative  poverty  to  enor- 
mous wealth,  mostly  by  successful  ventures  in  real  estate, 
was  marvelous,  such  instances  being  rare  in  those  days. 
He  was  an  eccentric,  but  very  kind-hearted  man,  very 
good  to  the  poor,  and  he  had  many  warm  friends.  A few 


92 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


years  later  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  culture  of  grapes, 
and  made  Cincinnati  famous  for  its  catawba  and  other 
wines  bearing  the  Longworth  brand. 

There  were  many  others  whose  names  could  be  given 
and  of  whom  even  then  the  young  city  was  justly  proud. 
Dr.  Drake,  the  eminent  surgeon  and  beloved  physician; 
Rev.  Dr.  Joshua  L,  Wilson,  the  Boanerges  of  Presbyter- 
ianism; Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  and  Dr.  Aydelotte,  the  hard- 
working and  vigilant  watchmen  on  the  Episcopal  watch 
towers;  Judge  Bellamy  Storer,  the  distinguished  jurist; 
Edward  Mansfield,  the  great  journalist;  Salmon  P.  Chase, 
then  the  energetic  and  promising  young  lawyer,  years 
afterward  Chief  Justice  of  the  United  States,  and  many 
others  whose  lives  are  written  in  the  “ History  of  Cincin- 
nati.” From  the  long  list  I select  a few  names  of  those 
with  whom  our  family  was  intimately  associated:  Major 
David  Gwynne,  a former  Paymaster  in  the  army,  and  my 
father’s  life-long  friend;  Judge  Burnett,  our  near  and 
highly-esteemed  neighbor;  Dr.  John  Locke,  my  honored 
teacher  for  four  years;  Alexander  Kinmont,  the  eccentric 
Scotchman  and  most  thorough  educator  of  boys;  the 
Groesbecks,  the  Lytles,  the  Carneals,  the  Kilgours,  the 
Piatts,  the  Wiggins’, — all  of  whom  bore  a prominent  part 
in  the  early  formative  days  of  the  beautiful  city. 

Edward  Mansfield,  who  did  so  much  to  shape  the  liter- 
ary taste  of  Cincinnati  and  to  promote  its  interests  in 
many  ways,  deserves  more  than  a mere  mention  of  his 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


93 


name.  He  was  the  son  of  Jared  Mansfield,  Professor  at 
West  Point  Military  Academy  and  Surveyor  General  of 
the  Northwest  Territory.  He  graduated  at  West  Point  in 
1819,  and  was  appointed  Lieutenant  of  Engineers,  but,  at 
the  earnest  solicitation  of  his  mother,  resigned  and  turned 
his  attention  to  legal  pursuits.  He  practiced  law  for  a 
while  in  Cincinnati  in  partnership  with  Mr.  Mitchell,  who 
afterwards  became  so  famous  as  professor  of  astronomy. 
But  finally  Mr.  Mansfield  devoted  himself  to  literary  and 
scientific  investigations,  and  published  several  books  and 
essays  of  great  value.  In  1845  he  wrote  “The  Legal 
Rights  of  Women,”  and  year  after  year  some  biography 
or  history  from  his  fertile  pen  came  to  light,  and  was  wel- 
comed and  appreciated  by  the  reading  public.  In  1836 
he  became  editor  of  the  “Cincinnati  Chronicle,”  after- 
wards of  the  “Chronicle  and  Atlas,”  and  in  1857  of  the 
“ Gazette.”  “As  an  editor  and  contributor  he  was  re- 
markable for  his  impartiality  and  fairness,  and  was  one  of 
the  most  extensive  newspaper  writers  in  the  country.  He 
supported  the  Whig  party  with  great  ability,  and  no  one 
in  his  day  did  more  for  the  triumph  of  the  Republican 
party.  His  memoirs,  published  by  himself  in  his  seventy- 
eighth  year,  extending  over  the  years  from  1803  to  1843, 
are  of  great  public  interest.” 

The  Asiatic  cholera  visited  the  United  States  for  the 
first  time  in  1832,  and  its  ravages  in  Cincinnati  were  terri- 
ble. Business  was  in  a great  measure  suspended,  schools 


94 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


were  closed  for  a time,  and  the  air  was  full  of  “ farewells 
to  the  dying  and  mournings  for  the  dead,”  but  after  a time 
the  dreadful  scourge  passed  away,  leaving  an  indelible  im- 
pression on  all,  and  the  old  order  of  things  was  resumed. 
In  1833  we  left  our  pleasant  home  in  Cincinnati  and  went 
to  Fort  Winnebago,  on  the  Fox  River,  Wisconsin.  This 
was  just  at  the  close  of  the  Black  Hawk  war,  during  which 
my  father  commanded  at  Fort  Howard,  Green  Bay,  and 
had  some  pretty  sharp  experiences.  On  our  way  to  our 
new  station  we  stopped  at  Fort  Crawford,  Prairie  du 
Chien,  several  days  to  rest  and  prepare  for  our  journey  of 
nearly  a week  overland  to  Fort  Winnebago,  and  were  en- 
tertained at  the  hospitable  quarters  of  Colonel  Zachary 
Taylor,  then  in  command  of  the  post.  Our  host  and 
hostess  were  so  cordial  and  made  us  so  comfortable  and 
at  home,  Miss  Knox  Taylor  was  so  lovely,  and  little  Dick 
and  Betty  such  delightful  playmates,  that  we  enioyed  our 
visit  there  most  fully,  and  have  always  remembered  it 
with  great  pleasure.  And  when  we  learned  only  a short 
time  after  our  arrival  at  our  journey’s  end  that  Lieutenant 
Jefferson  Davis  had  carried  off  our  beautiful  Miss  Knox, 
in  spite  of  her  parents’  watchfulness  and  her  father’s  ab- 
solute commands,  our  grief  and  indignation  knew  no 
bounds.  The  pair  went  to  St.  Louis  and  were  married. 
The  Colonel  and  his  wife  never  recovered  from  the  shock, 
which  seemed  to  blight  the  happiness  of  their  home. 
They  never  saw  their  child  again.  There  was  no  recon- 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


95 


ciliation  between  the  parties,  and  the  beloved,  misguided 
daughter  died  in  six  months  after  leaving  home.  He  who 
treacherously  beguiled  her  away  from  her  happy  home  is 
an  old  man  now,  and  must  soon  go  to  his  account.  He 
stands  out  prominently  against  a dark  background,  and 
no  one  will  envy  him  the  recollection  of  that  deed  or  the 
place  he  occupies  in  the  history  of  the  country  to  which 
he  proved  false  in  her  hour  of  trial. 

It  is  said  that  the  broken-hearted  father  never  spoke  to 
him  for  years,  but  that  on  the  battle-field  in  Mexico, 
Captain  Davis  made  a successful  movement,  and  in  pass, 
ing  him,  General  Taylor,  as  commanding  officer  of  the 
division  to  which  he  was  attached,  said,  “that  was  well 
done,  Captain,”  and  perhaps  he  never  spoke  to  him 
afterwards. 

When  our  delightful  sojourn  with  the  kind  friends  at 
Fort  Crawford  came  to  an  end,  we  started  in  our  open 
vehicle,  which  had  been  made  as  comfortable  as  possible 
for  our  long  ride  of  several  days  to  our  final  destination, 
and,  as  there  were  no  public  houses  on  the  road,  our 
dependence  for  accommodations,  was  upon  the  thinly 
scattered  settlers,  who  for  the  most  part  were  “ roughing 
it,”  and  had  few  conveniences,  scarcely  any  comforts  to 
offer  the  weary  traveler. 

One  night  the  halt  was  called  in  front  of  a low  log  house 
of  two  rooms,  connected  by  an  enclosed  passage  way, 
which  served  the  purpose  of  an  eating  room. 


96 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


The  mistress  of  the  house  was  the  wife  of  a steamboat 
captain,  but  owing  to  some  irreconcilable  difference  of 
sentiment,  she  refused  to  live  with  him,  and  she  was 
miserably  poor.  In  pity  to  her  sad  case,  her  husband  had 
sent,  by  my  father,  some  articles  of  clothing  which  he 
hoped  might  be  of  use  to  her,  and  this  errand  served  as 
our  introduction.  She  was  a tall,  fine  looking  woman, 
and  received  and  welcomed  us  with  the  air  of  a princess 
dwelling  in  a palace.  She  was  a niece  of  James  Fennimore 
Cooper,  and  her  grand  and  stately  mien,  in  the  midst  of 
such  squalid  poverty,  would  have  been  amusing,  but  for 
the  pity  of  it. 

Her  father,  a very  old  man,  lay  dying  of  consumption 
in  one  of  the  rooms,  and  my  little  sister  and  I were 
assigned  for  the  night  to  a bed  directly  opposite  the  death 
couch.  The  one  tallow  candle  on  the  stand  beside  him, 
guttering  down  in  its  socket,  the  fitful  light  from  the  vast 
fireplace,  which  made  strange  fantastic  shapes  and  shadows 
on  the  rough  dark  walls,  and  the  clear  cut  profile  of  the 
dying  man,  with  the  erect  dignified  figure  beside  him, 
rising  occasionally  to  arrange  his  pillow,  or  give  him 
water,  impressed  us  most  painfully,  effectually  driving 
sleep  from  our  eyes,  which,  under  a kind  of  fascination, 
gazed  intently  on  what  they  would  fain  not  see.  From 
time  to  time  the  dogs  outside  howled  dismally,  and  this 
forced  night-watch  was  made  most  hideous  by  the  occa- 
sional hooting  of  an  owl,  or  the  prolonged  baying  of 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


97 


hungry  wolves  in  the  distance.  We  were  very  weary,  and 
at  last  fell  into  a troubled  slumber,  but  were  haunted  even 
in  sleep  by  the  ghastly  face  across  the  room  and  the  weird 
shadows  on  the  wall,  ’till  aroused  by  mother’s  morning 
kiss,  and  cheery  call  to  breakfast,  which  banished  all  dis- 
turbing dreams,  and  waked  us  to  the  realities  of  a bright 
sunshiny  morning,  and  the  morning  meal  which  our  grand 
hostess  had  prepared  for  us  to  eat  before  we  left  this  most 
uninviting  caravansary.  This  repast  consisted  of  potatoes 
boiled  “au  natural,”  and  some  kind  of  drink  which  she 
announced  as  coffee,  and  which  she  served  with  the  grace 
of  a queen,  dispensing  the  delicacies  of  her  table. 

I have  never  ceased  to  admire  the  admirable  tact  and 
grace  with  which  my  father  added  to  this  choice  menu; 
some  very  nice  boiled  beef  and  other  toothsome  viands, 
with  which  our  bountiful  friends  the  Taylors,  had  packed 
our  messchest;  also,  some  choice  tea,  which  father,  accus- 
tomed to  camping,  knew  how  to  prepare  in  perfection. 
All  this  he  did  in  such  a way  as  to  make  the  lady  feel  that 
it  was  an  honor  to  us  to  share  these  things  with  her,  and  it 
was  really  gratifying  to  see  her  calm  enjoyment  of  deli- 
cacies to  which  she  had  long  been  a stranger.  I think, 
too,  that  the  fragrant  cup  of  tea  and  the  delicate  bit  of 
toast,  taken  to  the  sick  man,  may  have  brought  to  his 
mind  tender  recollections  of  a time  when  he  lived  like  a 
gentleman,  and  dispelled  for  a little  while  the  memory  of 
the  family  troubles,  and  the  complication  of  misfortunes 


98  “THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 

which  had  reduced  him  to  poverty  and  a dying  bed  in  this 
comfortless  log  cabin  in  the  wilderness. 

Kind  friends  met  us  with  a hearty  welcome  at  our  jour- 
ney’s end,  where  for  a few  years  we  had  a very  happy  home. 
The  memory  of  the  weekly  musicals  at  John  Kinzie’s 
pleasant  agency,  and  the  delightful  rides  on  horseback 
over  the  Portage  to  the  point  where  Portage  City  now 
stands,  quickens  my  heart-beats  even  now. 

But  where  now  are  all  those  who  then  called  that  little 
quadrangle  “home?”  Col.  Cutler,  Major  Green,  Captain 
Low,  Lieutenants  Johnston,  Hooe,  Collingsworth,  Lacy, 
McLure,  Ruggles,  Reid,  Whipple,  Doctors  Satterlee, 
McDougal  and  Foote,  Sutlers  Goodell,  Satterlee,  Clark, 
Lieutenant  Van  Cleve  and  my  own  dear  father?  Alas!  of 
all  these  but  one  answers  to  roll-call,  and  he  and  I hold 
in  sweet  remembrance  the  dear  friends  of  our  youth,  and 
the  beloved  old  fort,  where  He  who  hath  led  us  graciously 
all  our  days,  first  brought  us  together,  and  blessed  us  with 
each  other’s  love,  and  we  thank  Him  from  our  hearts  that 
He  has  spared  us  to  each  other  for  so  many  years. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


NEW  HOME— SCHOOL  DAYS. 

THERE  came  a day  in  April,  1834,  when  my  brother 
and  I bade  “good-bye”  to  all,  and,  -under  our 
father’s  care,  left  Fort  Winnebago  to  go  East,  he  to  West 
Point,  I to  school  in  New  Haven. 

We  descended  the  sinuous  Fox  river  in  an  open  boat, 
having  on  board,  besides  ourselves,  a crew  of  soldiers,  and 
two  ladies,  who  embraced  this  opportunity  to  visit  their 
Eastern  home. 

The  spring  rains  set  in  the  next  day,  and  our  voyage 
down  the  Fox  river  lasted  ten  days,  during  which  time  we 
had  ample  opportunity  to  test  the  efficacy  of  hydropathy, 
as  our  awning  was  by  no  means  waterproof,  and  we  were 
literally  soaked  the  greater  part  of  the  time.  In  passing 
through  Lake  Winnebago  the  wind  was  so  fearful  that  the 
combined  efforts  of  Captain  and  crew  were  necessary  to 
prevent  shipwreck  and  disaster.  The  passage  through  the 
rapids  below  was  extremely  hazardous,  but  a famous  In- 
dian pilot  was  employed  to  guide  us  over,  and  no  harm 
befel  us.  The  picture  of  that  tall,  dark  figure  at  the  bow, 
his  long,  black  hair  streaming  in  the  wind,  his  arms  bare, 
his  motions,  as  he  shifted  his  pole  from  side  to  side,  rapid 
and  full  of  unconscious  grace,  his  eyes  glowing  like  stars 


100 


‘THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN. 


with  anxious  vigilance,  his  voice  ringing  out  clear  and 
musical  from  time  to  time,  is  as  fresh  in  my  mind  as  if  all 
this  was  only  yesterday. 

But  civilization  and  never-tiring  enterprise  have  waved 
over  it  their  magic  wand,  and  the  whole  scene  is  changed. 
Beautiful  towns  have  sprung  up  about  the  clear,  blue  lake, 
and  the  place  that  knew  the  Indian  and  his  people  shall 
know  him  no  more  forever.  In  a distant  camping-place 
nearer  the  setting  sun  the  remnant  of  a once  powerful 
tribe  is  dragging  out  its  existence,  waiting  and  expecting 
to  be  moved  still  farther  west  when  the  white  man  wants 
the  land  they  occupy,  reserved  to  them  only  till  that  want 
becomes  imperative  and  the  United  States  says:  “ Go  far- 
ther!” 

When  we  finally  reached  Fort  Howard,  and  were  cor- 
dially welcomed  and  hospitably  entertained  by  General 
Brooke,  of  the  Fifth  Regiment,  we  forgot,  in  our  exceed- 
ing comfort,  all  the  perils  and  disagreeables  by  the  way, 
and  not  one  of  us  experienced  the  slightest  cold  or  incon- 
venience from  our  long  exposure  to  the  elements. 

We  remained  a week  here  awaiting  a schooner,  and  I 
met  for  the  first  time  Captain  and  Mrs.  Marcy,  parents  of 
Mrs.  General  McLellan.  How  pretty  and  charming  she 
was,  and  how  kind  and  tender  to  the  boy  and  girl  who 
were  going  away  from  home  and  mother  for  the  first  time! 
The  beautiful  wife  of  General  Brooke,  too,  was  so  loving 
and  considerate  in  her  motherly  attentions  to  us  that  she 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


IOI 


completely  won  our  hearts,  and  when  she  died,  some  years 
afterward,  we  felt  bereaved. 

The  voyage  by  schooner  to  Buffalo  through  the  Straits 
of  Mich-e-li-mac-i-nac  and  tempestous  little  Lake  St. 
Clair,  a day  or  two  at  hoary,  magnificent  Niagara,  the  jour- 
ney thence  by  stage,  canal,  railroad  and  steamboat  to  New 
York,  filled  up  one  month  from  the  time  we  took  our  fare- 
well look  at  the  star  spangled  banner  floating  over  our  far 
Western  home.  And  this  sixteen  mile  ride  by  rail  from 
Schenectady  to  Albany,  which  was  over  the  first  piece  of 
road  opened  for  travel  in  the  United  States,  seemed  so  like 
magic  as  to  inspire  us  with  a kind  of  awe.  I remember 
that  in  coming  to  a steep  grade  the  passengers  alighted, 
while  the  train  was  drawn  up  the  slope  by  some  kind  of 
stationary  machinery. 

I recalled  this  experience  of  my  girlhood  a few  years 
ago  when,  in  a luxurious  palace  car,  a party  of  us  wound 
up  and  over  the  Veta  pass,  an  ascent  of  2,439  feet  in  four- 
teen miles,  and  looking  down  the  dizzy  height,  as  the  two 
powerful  engines,  puffing  and  snorting  like  living  crea- 
tures, labored  to  reach  the  summit,  I marvelled  at  the 
splendid  triumph  of  genius  and  skill. 

After  a pleasant  day  or  two  at  West  Point,  where  we 
left  the  young  Cadet,  and  a short  visit  to  relatives  in  New 
York,  a most  enjoyable  trip  in  a “ Sound  ” steamer  brought 
us  to  the  “City  of  Elms,’*  one  of  the  great  educational 
centers  of  New  England,  which  was  to  be  my  home  for 
two  years. 


102 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


There  were  many  learned  men  in  New  Haven  then,  and 
the  faculty  of  the  time-honored  old  college  had  on  its  roll 
names  which  will  never  die, — Day,  Silliman,  Olmstead, 
and  many  others, — who  were  mighty  in  eloquence  and 
theology,  like  Leonard  Bacon  and  Dr.  Taylor,  proclaimed 
the  truth  with  no  uncertain  sound  in  the  churches  on  the 
“ Green  ” from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath.  Grand  old  Noah 
Webster,  standing  in  the  doorway  of  his  modest  home  on 
our  road  from  school  to  church,  was,  to  me,  an  embodi- 
ment of  the  spelling-book  and  dictionary,  and  I instinct- 
ively made  obeisance  to  him  as  we  passed  that  way. 

One  of  the  few  privileges  granted  me  in  the  way  of 
recreation  while  at  “Mrs.  Apthorpe’s  School  for  Young 
Ladies”  was  an  occasional  visit  to  our  dear  cousins,  the 
Brewsters,  who  occupied  a beautiful  home  on  the  Sound, 
formerly  known  as  the  “ Pavillion,”  which  might  be  called 
historic,  for  in  a dark  dungeon  underneath  the  house  the 
notorious  regicides,  Goff  and  Whalley,  were  hidden  in  the 
old,  old  times.  And  the  graveyard  in  New  Haven,  with 
its  tall  poplar  trees,  was  an  epitome  of  the  lives  of  men 
and  women  who  had  made  their  impress,  not  only  on  that 
community,  but  on  the  world.  Our  school  was  situated 
on  Hillhouse  avenue,  and  our  walks  were  mostly  confined 
to  that  quiet,  shady  street  and  “Powder  House  lane,”  in 
order  that  we  might  avoid  meeting  the  “ students,”  of 
whom  our  teacher  seemed  to  have  a great  dread,  a fear 
from  which  her  pupils  were  entirely  free.  But  for  all  this 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


103 


care  and  precaution  we  learned  to  know  by  sight  Benjamin 
Silliman,  who  lived  next  door  to  us,  and  young  Thomas 
Skinner,  who  was  opposite,  and  it  is  delightful  to  know 
that  these  two  young  men,  who  were  full  to  the  brim  with 
fun  and  harmless  mischief,  have  become  eminent  and  dig- 
nified men  of  renown,  one  as  a chemist  and  scientist,  the 
other  as  a distinguished  divine  and  honored  professor  in  a 
theological  seminary. 

The  college  commencement  exercises  were  held  in  the 
Central  Church,  on  the  “ Green,”  and  all  the  schools,  male 
and  female,  were  well  represented  in  the  large  audience. 
The  ladies  occupied  the  center  of  the  church,  and,  in  order 
that  the  large  bonnets  in  vogue  at  that  time  might  not  in- 
tercept the  view  of  the  stage,  several  long  lines  were 
stretched  longitudinally  over  their  heads,  to  which  they 
were  expected  to  attach  them,  and,  after  all  had  hung  up 
their  bonnets,  these  lines  were  drawn  up  out  of  the  way 
until  needed  again.  Many  of  the  ladies  provided  pretty 
caps  and  headdresses  for  the  occasion,  and  the  delicate 
laces,  with  their  tasteful  trimmings,  and  the  bright  eyes 
and  happy  faces,  formed  a pretty  picture  long  to  be  re- 
membered. Recalling  it,  I see  again  the  dimpled  cheeks 
and  soft,  graceful  appointments  of  those  merry  girls,  and, 
wafted  backward  over  the  bridge  of  many  years,  I sit 
among  them,  the  spring-time  of  youth  comes  back  to  me, 
and  I bless  God  for  memory.  What  if  we  are  old  women 
now,  worn  and  weary  with  care  and  trial  it  may  be;  this 


104 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


blessed  gift  refreshes  us  on  our  way  to  the  eternal  youth 
that  awaits  us  just  beyond,  and  we  exult  in  the  belief  that 
the  flowers  over  there  are  fadeless,  that  old  age  is  not 
known,  and  friends  no  more  say  “good-bye.” 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


father’s  death,  etc. 

THE  fall  of  1835  fc>und  us  all,  except  our  Cadet, 
at  Fort  Winnebago  again,  but  heavy  afflictions 
made  that  winter  a very  sad  one.  The  anxiety  consequent 
on  the  serious  illness  of  two  beloved  members  of  the  fam- 
ily so  wore  upon  our  dear  father,  whose  constitution  had 
been  severely  tried  by  arduous  military  duties,  that  after 
many  weeks  of  pain,  he  died,  and  left  us  crushed  and 
desolate. 

I have  beside  me  an  old  “Order  Book,”  open  at  a page 
on  which  is  this  sad  record: 

“The  Major  Commanding  has  the  painful  duty  to  an- 
nounce to  the  command,  the  death  of  Major  Nathan 
Clark;  he  will  be  buried  to-morrow  afternoon  at  2 o’clock, 
with  the  honors  of  war,  where  all  present,  except  those 
persons  who  may  be  expressly  excused,  will  appear  under 
arms  in  full  uniform;  the  Commanding  Officer  directs 
that  the  escort  be  composed  of  four  companies,  which,  in 
accordance  with  his  own  feelings  as  well  as  what  is  due  to 
the  deceased,  he  will  command  in  person.  All  officers  of 
this  command  will  wear  black  crape  attached  to  the  hilts 
of  their  swords,  and  as  testimony  of  respect  for  the  de- 


106  “THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 

cased,  this  badge  will  be  worn  for  the  period  of  thirty  days. 
The  Surgeon  of  the  Post  will  act  as  Chaplain. 

By  order  of  Major  Green. 

Feb.  18th,  1836. 

Signed  J.  T.  Collingsworth,  Act.  Adj.” 

And  at  the  time  appointed,  a detail  of  soldiers  from  his 
own  “Company  C,”  reverently  place  upon  the  bier  the 
encoffined  form  of  their  beloved  commander,  having  for  a 
pall  the  “Stars  and  Stripes”,  on  which  are  laid  the  sword 
and  accoutrements  now  no  longer  needed. 

Memory  brings  back  to  me  that  mournful  afternoon, 
and  I see  the  bearers  with  their  burden;  the  long  proces- 
sion of  soldiers  with  trailed  arms;  the  commissioned  offi- 
cers each  in  his  appropriate  place,  all  keeping  time  and  step 
to  the  muffled  drum  as  it  rolls  out  its  requiem  on  the  win- 
try air,  in  the  strains  of  Pleyel’s  heart-melting  hymn;  the 
weeping  wife  and  children  in  the  large  sleigh, — all  passing 
out  the  great  gate  to  the  lone  grave-yard.  And  the  pre- 
cious burden  is  lowered,  and  at  its  head  stands  Surgeon 
Lyman  Foote,  our  father’s  life-long  friend,  and  in  a voice 
trembling  with  emotion,  reads  the  wonderful  words:  “I  am 
the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,  saith  the  Lord.”  After 
the  burial  service  comes  the  last  salute,  and,  leaving  there 
that  which  is  so  dear  to  us, we  go  back  to  the  empty  quar- 
ters, bowed  down  heavily,  as  those  who  mourn  for  one 
inexpressibly  dear. 

During  those  weeks  of  pain  and  languishing,  my  father, 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  107 

knowing  what  the  end  must  be,  and  realizing  the  change 
his  death  would  make  in  all  our  plans,  left  full  directions 
for  our  future  course  ; and  in  accordance  with  his  last 
wishes,  my  marriage  with  Lieutenant  H.  P.  Van  Cleve  was 
solemnized,  in  the  presence  of  a few  friends,  March  22d, 
1836.  Rev.  Henry  Gregory,  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  at 
that  time  laboring  as  a missionary  among  the  Stockbridge 
Indians,  performed  the  ceremony.  His  station  was  be- 
tween the  Forts  Winnebago  and  Howard,  and  he  had  a 
serious  time  making  the  journey  on  horseback  to  the  fort, 
the  snow  being  very  deep  and  the  weather  severe.  Besides 
using  up  his  horse  he  became  snow-blind,  and  reached  us 
pretty  well  worn  out,  but  we  can  never  forget  his  cheerful 
endurance  of  his  trials,  and  his  genial,  affable  manner, 
which  made  warm  friends  of  all  who  came  in  contact  with 
him.  He  was  one  who  lived  the  gospel  which  he  preached, 
and  unconsciously  diffused  a beneficial  influence  all  about 
him.  Notwithstanding  his  temporary  blindness,  he  was 
so  perfectly  familiar  with  the  marriage  service  that  there 
was  no  delay  in  consequence,  and  after  resting  with  us  a 
few  days,  till  his  eyesight  was  restored,  he  left  us  on  a new 
horse  to  return  to  his  home  among  the  Indians,  where  he 
labored  faithfully  and  effectively  for  some  years  longer. 

As  soon  as  navigation  opened,  my  mother  went  to  Con- 
necticut with  two  children,  leaving  the  youngest,  a dear 
little  three  year  old  girl,  in  our  care.  We  spent  the  first 
summer  of  our  married  life  very  quietly  and  happily  at 


io8 


“THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 


the  old  fort,  and  enjoyed  exceedingly  a visit  from  two 
companies  of  the  First  Regiment,  from  Prairie  du  Chien, 
who  had  been  ordered  up  there,  to  strengthen  our  post,  on 
account  of  a rumor  of  an  Indian  outbreak  which  had 
reached  Washington.  Col.  Zachary  Taylor  commanded 
the  detachment  personally,  and  encamping  just  outside 
the  fort,  made  a beautiful  display.  Old  General  Brady 
was  with  them  also,  and  we  were  proud  and  happy  to  en- 
tertain our  dear  fathers  old  friends  at  our  own  table.  To 
add  to  the  pleasure  of  this  visit,  there  was  not  and  had  not 
been  the  slightest  foundation  for  alarm.  It  was  said  that 
not  only  were  the  Indians  perfectly  peaceable,  but  that 
they  had  not  enough  ammunition  to  kill  what  game  they 
needed  for  food.  Colonel  Taylor  knew  all  this,  but  was 
obliged  to  obey  orders  ; so  we  had  a grand  picnic  of  a 
few  weeks,  just  when  the  prairies  were  covered  with  deli- 
cious strawberries,  and  the  cows  were  yielding  abundance 
of  milk  and  cream.  That  was  in  the  old  time,  when  mails 
were  monthly,  and  telegraphing  was  a thing  of  the  future. 

In  the  following  September,  my  husband  having  re- 
signed his  commission,  we  bade  a long  “good  bye”  to  the 
army  and  its  many  tender  associations.  This  step  was 
taken  after  much  thought  and  deliberation,  and  in  accord- 
ance with  the  advice  of  our  dear  father.  But  the  army 
had  always  been  my  home  ; I loved  it  as  such.  I love  it 
still,  and  it  is  a comfort  to  me  in  my  old  age  to  know  that 
I am  not  far  away  from  a fort , that  I can  almost  see  the 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


109 


beautiful  flag,  as  it  sways  in  the  breeze,  can  almost  hear 
the  drum  and  fife,  the  music  pf  my  childhood,  and  can  feel 
that  they  are  near  me,  in  dear  old  Fort  Snelling,  my  earli- 
est home. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


JN  1840,  being  in  Cincinnati,  where  we  were  delightfully 
situated,  we  had  a rare  opportunity  to  witness  the  en- 
thusiasm of  our  countrymen,  as  displayed  in  the  Presiden- 
tial campaign  of  which  General  Harrison  was  the  success- 
ful man.  The  excitement  of  that  time  was  tremendous. 
The  hard  cider  songs — 

“And  should  we  be  any  ways  thirsty, 

I’ll  tell  you  what  we  will  all  do, 

We’ll  bring  forth  a keg  of  hard  cider 
And  drink  to  old  Tippecanoe.” 

Also:  “For  Tippecanoe  and  Tyler,  too, 

And  with  them  we’ll  beat  little  Van. 

Van,  Van’s  a used-up  man, 

And  with  them  we’ll  beat  little  Van.” 
Resounded  through  the  streets  from  morn  till  midnight, 
drums  beat  and  cannons  roared,  and,  seeing  the  way  in 
which  the  poor  old  man  was  dragged  about  from  place  to 
place  in  all  kinds  of  processions,  we  were  not  surprised 
when  we  learned  of  his  death  a few  weeks  after  his  in- 
auguration. Then,  alas!  what  a sad  procession  passed 
through  those  same  streets,  of  late  so  full  of  life  and  joy; 
now  heavily  draped  in  mourning  and  echoing  to  funereal 
strains,  as  the  worn-out  old  man  is  borne  slowly  through 
the  beautiful  city  to  rest  in  his  quiet  home  at  North  Bend. 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


1 1 I 


How  empty  seem  all  earthly  honors  in  view  of  such  sharp 
contrasts.  The  lesson  sank  deep,  and  can  never  be  for- 
gotten. Looking  over  the  leaves  of  my  diary  kept  during 
that  eventful  year,  I find  recorded  there  a sorrowful  inci- 
dent that  occurred  during  the  winter,  bringing  desolation 
to  a rich  man’s  home  and  grief  to  many  loving  friends.  I 
give  it  here  in  the  form  of  a story,  as  I have  told  it  to  my 
children  from  time  to  time.  It  is  an  entirely  correct  nar- 
rative, without  the  slightest  coloring,  and  I have  called  it 
“A  Tale  of  the  Florida  War.” 

“ You  had  better  go,  dear  Lizzie,  it  will  do  you  good;  the 
confinement  in  this  lonesome  fort  does  not  agree  with  you. 
A ride  on  horseback  and  a pleasant  visit  with  dear  friends 
will  brighten  you  up  and  bring  back  some  of  the  roses  to 
your  cheeks.  My  duty  keeps  me  here,  but  Sherwood  will 
go  with  you;  the  Colonel  will  provide  a suitable  escort, 
and  there  is  nothing  to  fear.  You  will  return  in  better 
spirits  and  be  happy  again,  will  you  not,  my  drooping 
lily?  What!  tears  again?  Dry  them,  dearest,  and  let  us 
hope  that  you  will  soon  receive  that  long-expected  letter 
from  your  mother,  for  she  must  feel  that  by  this  time,  if 
any  punishment  was  necessary,  yours  has  been  sufficient. 
Now  smile  again,  dear  one,  as  you  were  wont  to  do  in  hap- 
pier days,  or  I shall  tell  you  that  my  heart  reproaches  me 
for  having  taken  you  from  your  luxurious  home  and 
brought  upon  you  so  much  unhappiness.”  “ Say  anything 
but  that,  my  beloved,  and  I will  try  to  conquer  my  sad- 


1 12 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


ness.  You  know  I would  not  exchange  these  simple  quar- 
ters of  a poor  Lieutenant  for  all  the  splendors  of  my 
father’s  house.  For  your  sake,  and  with  you  beside  me  to 
cheer  and  comfort  me,  I could  bear  all  hardship  and  priva- 
tion; but,  oh!  to  hear  from  my  parents  that  I am  forgiven, 
that  they  still  remember  me  with  my  sisters,  as  one  of 
their  dear  children.  I will  be  patient,  dear,  and  trust  more 
fully  in  Him  who  has  said:  “When  thy  father  and  thy 
mother  forsake  thee,  then  the  Lord  will  take  thee  up.” 
He  will  surely  hear  my  daily  prayer  and  restore  peace  to 
my  heart,  and  we  will  dwell  on  the  sweet  promises  we 
read  together  in  the  Book  we  have  learned  to  love  so 
well,  and  will  trust  Him  who  is  our  best,  our  unfailing 
friend.  And  now,  since  you,  my  dear,  kind  husband,  wish 
it,  I will  prepare  for  this  little  excursion.  I cannot  bear 
to  leave  you  here,  but  I shall  be  back  soon,  and  who  knows 
but  to-morrow’s  mail  may  bring  some  news  from  home 
which  will  cheer  and  comfort  us  both.  Yet  I cannot  ac- 
count for  a feeling  that  takes  possession  of  me  now  and 
then,  that  something  is  about  to  happen;  that  all  will  not 
be  well  while  we  are  absent  the  one  from  the  other.  What 
can  it  be?  I cannot  shake  it  off.  The  fort  may  be  at- 
tacked, and  should  anything  befall  you,  my  best  beloved, 
what  would  become  of  me?  Much  better  remain  and  per- 
ish with  you  than  return  to  a desolate  home.” 

“ Now,  my  darling,  do  not  give  way  to  such  dismal  fore- 
bodings. You  always  cheered  me  during  those  days  of 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  1 1 3 

doubt  and  suspense  in  Newport,  bidding  me  look  forward 
to  brighter  days.  You  would  not  now  sadden  the  hours 
of  your  absence  from  me  by  causing  anxious  thoughts  in 
my  heart.  Oh!  my  precious  wife;  you  have  borne  much 
for  my  sake,  you  have  been  to  me  in  very  truth  a minis- 
tering angel.  Do  not  now  despond,  but  still  strengthen 
me  by  your  brave,  hopeful  smiles.  You  know  how  I shall 
miss  you  every  moment  of  your  absence,  but  the  hope  that 
this  ride  will  do  you  good  makes  me  willing  and  anxious 
to  have  you  go.  And  see,  the  Orderly  has  just  brought 
your  horse,  and  Sherwood  is  crossing  the  parade  to  tell 
you  he  is  ready.  Let  me  put  your  shawl  around  you  and 
tie  your  hat,  that  you  may  be  all  in  waiting  for  him.”  The 
young  wife  turned  upon  him  her  large,  beautiful  eyes, 
beaming  with  love,  and,  twining  her  arms  about  his  neck, 
kissed  the  “good-bye”  she  could  not  speak.  Then,  look- 
ing earnestly  to  heaven,  she  silently  called  down  the  pro- 
tection of  heaven  on  him  whom  she  loved  only  next  to 
God,  in  whom  she  trusted.  Her  husband  tenderly  em- 
braced her,  led  her  into  the  parlor,  and,  handing  her  to 
the  young  officer  who  was  to  take  charge  of  her,  said: 
“ Be  careful  of  her,  Sherwood,  and  let  me  see  you  both  by 
noon  to-morrow.  My  compliments  to  the  ladies  of  Fort 
Holmes,  and  urge  Mrs.  Montgomery’s  special  friend  to  re- 
turn with  her  and  partake  of  the  hospitalities  of  Fort 
Adams.”  Sherwood  bowed  in  acquiescence,  and,  assisting 
the  lady  into  her  saddle,  acknowledged  gracefully  the 


1 14  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

honor  conferred  upon  him  and  mounted  his  horse,  which 
was  impatient  to  begone.  Then  the  last  “good-byes” 
were  spoken,  loving  looks  exchanged,  and  in  a few  mo- 
ments the  young  Lieutenant  and  his  precious  charge  had 
passed  through  the  gate  and  were  out  of  sight.  The 
young  husband  gazed  after  them  a long  while,  with  anxi- 
ous, troubled  look.  “Dear  girl,”  he  said,  at  last,  “she, 
too,  feels  forebodings  of  coming  ill,  and  I dare  not  tell 
her,  but  for  days  I have  felt  much  depressed.  This  is 
wrong,  however.  I must  struggle  against  it  and  try  to  be 
cheerful  when  she  returns.  Why  should  I feel  thus?  We 
were  never  more  secure  than  at  present,  and  soon  this  vile 
war  will  be  over,  and  surely  by  the  time  we  return  to  our 
homes  the  parents  of  my  precious  wife  will  have  become 
reconciled  to  us,  and  we  shall  be  very  happy.”  Turning 
from  the  door  and  entering  the  room  where  he  had  parted 
with  his  wife,  he  threw  himself  on  the  lounge,  overcome 
by  various  emotions,  and,  in  fact,  far  from  well  in  body, 
though  this  had  been  carefully  concealed  from  his  anx- 
ious wife. 

While  he  is  thus  resting  and  trying  to  put  away  un- 
pleasant thoughts,  and  our  fair  heroine  is  pursuing  her  way 
to  Fort  Holmes,  we  will  tell  the  reader  of  some  of  the 
peculiar  circumstances  of  Lieutenant  Montgomery  and  his 
gentle  bride,  at  the  time  our  story  begins.  Lizzie  Taylor 
was  a fair  girl  of  little  more  than  seventeen  summers 
when  she  first  met  Lieutenant  Montgomery  at  a party 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


15 


given  by  some  of  the  elite  of  Cincinnati.  They  were  mu- 
tually attracted  to  each  other,  and  being  thrown  frequently 
into  each  other’s  society,  this  feeling  gradually  ripened 
into  love.  Honorable  and  high-minded  in  all  things, 
young  Montgomery  did  not  conceal  his  fondnes  for  Lizzie, 
and  it  was  generally  known  that  he  was  her  lover.  But 
her  father,  a man  of  great  wealth  and  ambition,  did  not 
approve  of  what  he  chose  to  call  her  childish  fancy,  and, 
being  desirous  that  his  daughters  should  form  brilliant 
marriages,  frowned  scornfully  on  the  suit  of  one  who  had 
only  his  irreproachable  character  and  his  commission  in 
the  army  of  the  United  States  to  offer  as  his  credentials. 
Opposition  in  this  case,  however,  had  its  usual  effect,  and 
Lizzie,  in  all  things  else  obedient  and  complying,  felt  that 
here,  even  her  father  should  not  interfere,  when  his  ob- 
jections were  simply  want  of  wealth  and  influence  on  the 
part  of  him  to  whom  she  had  given  her  young  heart  The 
young  people,  were  not  hasty,  however,  but  waited  pa- 
tiently and  uncomplainingly  a year,  the  father  promising 
them  that  he  would  think  of  it  and  give  them  an  answer 
at  that  time.  The  proud  man  flattered  himself,  that 
during  that  probationary  year  he  could  divert  his  daugh- 
ter from  her  foolishness,  as  he  termed  it,  and  excite  her 
ambition  to  form  a wealthy  alliance. 

To  this  end,  he  travelled  with  her,  introduced  her  into 
gay  and  fashionable  circles,  and  lavished  upon  her  indul- 
gences in  every  shape.  But  he  realized  little  of  the 


Il6  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

depths  of  a woman’s  love,  and  was  much  astonished  when, 
at  the  end  of  the  year,  she  sought  an  interview  with  him, 
in  which  she  told  him,  her  feelings  were  unchanged,  and 
she  desired  his  consent  and  blessing  on  her  union  with 
Lieutenant  Montgomery,  adding  that  she  hoped  that  time 
had  softened  his  feelings  towards  one  with  whom  he 
could  find  no  fault  save  that  he  loved  his  daughter,  and 
who  was  prepared  to  be  to  him  a dutiful,  loving  son. 

Her  father  turned  upon  her  in  anger,  and  stamping  vio- 
lently, swore  by  all  that  was  sac-red  that  never  would  he 
give  his  consent  to  her  union  with  one  so  much  beneath 
her  in  wealth  and  position.  “Then,  father,”  said  his  gen- 
tle daughter,  mildly  but  with  much  dignity;  “we  will 
marry  without  it,  for  as  sure  as  God  has  witnessed  our 
vows,  so  surely  shall  nought  but  death  part  him  and  me  ; 
‘his  people  shall  be  my  people,  and  his  God,  my  God.’ 
Forgive  me  this  first  act  of  disobedience  to  your  com- 
mands, and  believe  me  that  I still  love  you  as  tenderly  as 
I have  always  loved  my  father;  but  there  are  feelings 
which  not  even  a parent’s  authority  can  control,  and  with 
the  blessing  of  God  and  the  love  of  him  most  dear  to  me 
of  all  on  earth,  I can  brave  even  more  than  a father’s  dis- 
pleasure.” So  saying,  she  left  the  room,  while  her 
father,  astonished  beyond  measure,  remained  motionless, 
completely  taken  by  surprise  at  this  determined  opposi- 
tion to  his  will  in  one  who  had  hitherto  been  all  gentle- 
ness and  submission.  Days  passed,  and  she  continued  as 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  1 1 7 

ever,  gentle  and  loving  to  her  father.  No  reference  by 
either  was  made  to  their  late  conversation,  and  he  began 
to  think  she  had  thought  better  of  it  and  had  concluded 
to  yield  to  his  wishes,  even  congratulated  himself  that  the 
childish  affair  had  been  nipped  in  the  bud  by  his  timely 
and  judicious  authority,  when  on  one  bright  summer  day, 
like  a thunder-clap  from  an  unclouded  sky,  came  a very 
polite  note  from  Lieutenant  Montgomery  apprising  him 
of  the  fact  that  Lizzie  and  he  had  just  been  married  in  the 
presence  of  a few  friends  by  an  Episcopal  clergyman,  and 
that  they  craved  his  forgiveness  and  blessing.  From  that 
moment  her  fathers  heart,  already  hard,  was  set  as  a flint 
against  her.  No  entreaties  could  prevail  on  him  to  see 
her,  and  her  mother,  nearly  crazy  with  grief,  anger  and 
wounded  pride,  took  counsel  of  friends,  who  most  unwisely 
encouraged  her  bitterness  and  convinced  her  that  no  con- 
cessions should  be  made  to  a disobedient  child  under  any 
circumstances,  making  the  poor,  distressed,  mistaken 
mother  feel  that  it  was  a Christian  duty  to  let  her  feel  that 
her  act  had  made  her  an  outcast  from  her  parents’  love 
and  home.  Therefore,  although  she  saw  the  poor  girl  oc- 
casionally, she  always  heaped  on  her  devoted  head  the 
most  withering  reproaches,  telling  her  she  had  disgraced 
her  father’s  name,  and  must  expect  to  reap  the  fruits  of 
her  disobedience.  And  when  the  sad  little  bride  sent  to 
her,  begging  for  some  of  her  clothes,  of  which  she  was 
sadly  in  need,  for  she  had  carried  nothing  with  her  when 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


she  left  her  old  home,  she  tore  from  its  frame  a beautiful 
portrait  of  dear  Lizzie,  and,  rolling  it  up  in  some  of  the 
very  plainest  of  her  clothing,  sent  it,  with  the  message 
that  they  had  no  further  need  of  it,  and  that  the  articles 
sent  were  good  enough  for  one  in  her  position. 

During  that  summer  Lieutenant  Montgomery  was  sta- 
tioned at  Newport,  Ky.,  on  the  recruiting  service,  where 
my  husband,  my  mother  and  I occasionally  visited  them, 
and  we  were  astonished  to  notice  with  what  perfect  kind- 
ness, even  affection,  they  always  spoke  of  her  parents  and 
friends;  but  when  we  found  her  once  reading  God’s  Word 
and  staying  herself  on  His  precious  promises,  we  no  longer 
wondered  that  there  was  in  her  heart  no  feeling  of  bitter- 
ness, for  she,  too,  had  learned  the  lessons  He  taught,  who, 
“when  He  was  reviled,  reviled  not  again,  but  committed 
himself  to  Him  who  judgeth  righteously.”  A very  few  of 
her  friends  still  visited  her,  but  nearly  all  felt  it  would  not 
be  politic  to  be  found  in  sympathy  with  one  on  whom  the 
wealthy  and  influential  Griffin  Taylor  frowned  with  dis- 
pleasure. She  always  believed  her  father  would  relent, 
and  sometimes,  when  she  saw  him  approaching  her  on  the 
street,  her  heart  would  give  a great  bound  with  the  hope 
that  now  he  would  surely  speak  to  her;  but  as  soon  as  the 
proud  man  saw  her,  he  invariably  crossed  the  street  to 
avoid  the  meeting,  and  then  she  felt  sore  and  wounded, 
indeed.  So  the  summer  passed  away,  and  in  the  fall  came 
orders  for  the  Lieutenant  to  join  his  regiment,  then  en- 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  I IQ 

gaged  in  the  terrible  war  with  the  Seminoles  in  Florida. 
All  wondered  if  Lizzie’s  love  for  her  husband  would  stand 
this  severe  test,  and  many  were  astonished  when  they 
heard  it  was  her  intention  to  accompany  him  to  the  land 
of  the  Everglades,  where  so  many  had  lost  their  lives,  and 
where  the  prevailing  fever  or  the  deadly  tomahawk  might 
leave  her  alone  among  strangers.  A few  days  before  they 
left  we  visited  them  in  the  old  Newport  barracks,  and  1 
said  to  her:  “Lizzie;  remember  you  are  a soldier’s  wife, 
and  must  not  give  way  to  fear.”  Never  can  I forget  the 
look  of  tenderness  with  which  her  husband  regarded  her 
as  he  replied  for  her:  “ Dear  Lizzie  has  no  fear;  she  is 
more  of  a soldier  than  I am.  Had  it  not  been  for  her 
brave  bearing  and  her  sweet  words  of  encouragement,  I 
know  not  but  I might  have  turned  coward  at  the  thought 
of  exposing  the  dear  girl  to  the  dangers  and  privations  of 
such  a campaign;  but  the  knowledge  that  I possess  such 
a treasure  will  nerve  my  arm  and  give  me  courage  to  fight 
manfully  to  preserve  her  from  danger,  and  to  end  this 
dreadful  war  with  the  relentless  savages.  After  repeated 
but  vain  efforts  to  see  her  father,  she  bade  farewell  to  her 
friends,  and  those  to  whom  she  had  clung  during  her  days 
of  trial  and  suspense  accompanied  her  to  the  steamer 
which  was  to  carry  her  from  her  home.  The  day  was  a 
cheerless  one;  the  sun  veiled  his  face  behind  dark,  omin- 
ous clouds,  and  the  wind  sighed  mournfully,  as  if  moan- 
ing out  a requiem.  We  felt  oppressed  with  foreboding; 


120 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN. 


we  knew  she  was  going  into  the  midst  of  real  danger;  her 
father  had  refused  to  see  her;  her  mother  had  parted  with 
her  in  anger;  nearly  all  her  old  friends  had  frowned  upon 
her,  and  now  nature  seemed  to  give  signs  of  displeasure, 
though  we  who  loved  her  felt  that  the  heavens  were  weep- 
ing in  full  sympathy  with  the  dear  girl.  The  young  hus- 
band and  wife  strove  to  be  cheerful,  she  smiled  sweetly 
through  her  tears,  as  she  spoke  of  returning  in  the  spring, 
expressing  the  hope  that  by  that  time  her  parents  would 
have  forgiven  them  and  would  welcome  them  into  the  be- 
loved family  circle. 

We  stand  on  the  wharf  as  the  boat  pushes  off,  waving 
our  last  “good-byes”  and  breathing  prayers  for  their  safety 
and  welfare,  while  she  leans  on  the  arm  of  him  for  whom 
she  has  forsaken  all  but  God;  the  great  wheels  revolve, 
the  boat  moves  on  her  way,  and  that  girlish  form,  on  whom 
our  eyes  are  fixed,  grows  fainter  and  fainter,  till  it  fades 
out  of  sight.  We  heard  from  them  immediately  on  their 
arrival  at  Fort  Adams,  and  the  Lieutenant  wrote  that  Liz- 
zie was  well  and  would  be  perfectly  happy  but  for  the 
thought  of  her  parents’  displeasure.  Her  young  sister,  Car- 
rie, a sweet  girl  of  thirteen,  had  shed  many  tears  for  her,  and 
had  used  all  her  eloquence  to  bring  about  a reconciliation, 
apparently  in  vain,  but  finally  she  had  so  far  prevailed 
with  her  mother  as  to  extort  a promise  from  her  that  she 
would  write  to  her,  which  fact  she  straightway  communi- 
cated to  Lizzie,  who  was,  at  the  opening  of  our  story,  look- 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


1 2 1 


ing  anxiously  for  this  promised  letter,  which  might  con- 
tain words  of  love,  perhaps  forgiveness.  But  she  had 
looked  so  long  and  had  been  so  often  disappointed,  that 
suspense,  that  worst  of  all  trials  to  a wounded  spirit,  had 
affected  her  health  and  made  her  pale  and  sad.  It  was  on 
this  account  her  husband  had  prevailed  on  her  to  accept 
an  invitation  from  an  old  friend  of  hers  and  make  a little 
excursion  to  Fort  Holmes. 

The  real  object  of  the  trip  was  the  bearing  of  important 
messages  to  Fort  Holmes,  and  a full  escort  had  been  de- 
tailed as  a matter  of  prudence,  although  the  Indians  had 
been  very  quiet  for  some  time  and  no  danger  was  appre- 
hended. Lieutenant  Sherwood,  as  commander  of  the  ex- 
pedition, deemed  it  an  honor  to  take  especial  charge  of 
the  young  wife,  who  by  her  gentle  loveliness  had  endeared 
herself  to  all.  But  after  they  were  out  of  sight  Montgom- 
ery became  very  restless,  and,  remaining  only  a short  time 
on  the  sofa  where  we  left  him,  when  we  commenced  this 
long  digression,  he  arose  and  paced  the  floor  in  deep  and 
anxious  thought,  and  at  length,  as  if  to  throw  off  the  ter- 
rible weight  that  oppressed  him,  went  to  the  door  where 
he  had  parted  from  his  darling,  and  oh!  horror!  there 
stands  her  horse,  panting  and  riderless,  quivering  in  every 
limb  with  fright.  Without  an  instant’s  delay  he  sprang  on 
to  the  animal  and  rode,  he  scarcely  knew  where,  not  know- 
ing nor  daring  to  surmise  what  terrible  thing  had  befallen 
his  precious  wife.  What  words  can  depict  the  scene  that 


122 


“three  score  years  and  ten.” 


broke  upon  his  bewildered  gaze  when  the  horse  instinct- 
ively stopped  about  three  miles  from  the  fort?  There  on 
the  ground,  lay  several  soldiers,  murdered,  scalped  and 
stripped  of  their  clothing.  A little  farther  on  lay  poor 
Sherwood,  butchered  by  the  brutal  savages,  and  near  him 
the  lifeless  body  of  her  whom  he  had  died  to  protect. 
Close  by  her  side  lay  a soldier  mortally  wounded,  who  had 
just  strength  enough  left  to  say:  “ I fought — for  her — till 
the  last, — Lieutenant, — and  have  saved  her — from  the  hor- 
rid scalping-knife.”  Poor,  distracted  Montgomery  threw 
himself  on  the  ground  beside  her,  calling  despairingly 
upon  her,  imploring  her  to  speak  one  more  word  to  him, 
but  all  in  vain;  and  when  the  troops  from  the  fort,  who 
had  taken  the  alarm,  arrived  at  the  dreadful  spot,  he  lay 
like  one  dead, with  his  arm  around  the  lifeless  form  of  his 
precious  Lizzie.  And  thus  they  carried  them  home  in  the 
conveyance  sent  for  the  purpose — the  poor  husband  to 
awake  to  a bitter  sense  of  his  terrible  bereavement,  and 
she  who  had  so  lately  been  a lovely  bride,  to  be  dressed 
for  her  burial.  Imagine,  if  you  can,  the  feelings  of  her 
parents  when  the  heartrending  news  reached  them.  Her 
father’s  pride  was  crushed,  her  mother’s  heart  was  broken, 
and  those  who  knew  her  well  say,  although  she  lived  many 
years,  that  she  never  smiled  again.  Her  father  wrote  imme- 
diately to  Lieutenant  Montgomery,  imploring  him  to  come 
to  him  and  be  to  him  as  an  own  son,  feeling  this  to  be  the 
only  reparation  he  could  make  to  him  and  his  poor,  mur- 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


123 


dered  child.  This  offer  was,  of  course,  rejected,  for  how 
could  the  heartbroken  husband  consent  to  live  in  the  home 
from  which  his  dear  wife  had  been  turned  in  anger  away. 

Her  parents  felt  that  they  deserved  this,  but  wrote  again 
begging  the  body  of  their  daughter,  that  it  might  repose 
among  her  own  kindred  and  not  among  a savage  people. 
To  this  he  consented,  although  he  could  not  be  prevailed 
on  to  come  himself  to  Cincinnati,  and  accordingly,  early 
in  the  spring,  the  remains  of  the  once  lovely  and  idolized 
Lizzie  Taylor  were  brought  to  her  father’s  house. 

Her  false-hearted  summer  friends  could  now  weep  for 
her  as  the  daughter  of  the  rich  Griffin  Taylor,  while  they 
would  scarcely  have  regretted  her  as  simply  the  wife  of  a 
poor  soldier.  Alas!  for  the  hollow  friendship  of  the 
world!  Had  one-half  the  sympathy  been  bestowed  upon 
the  poor  child  when  she  was  turned  from  her  father’s  door, 
an  outcast,  as  was  lavished  on  her  poor,  unconscious  body 
when  lying  in  that  father’s  house  a corpse,  how  much  she 
would  have  been  cheered  and  comforted  under  her  sore 
trial.  Everything  possible  was  done  to  make  it  a splen- 
did funeral — a rosewood  coffin  and  velvet  pall,  crape 
streamers  and  funereal  plumes,  an  elegant  hearse,  and  an 
almost  unending  line  of  carriages — pitiable,  senseless 
pride,  that  would  cast  away  as  worthless  the  priceless 
jewel,  and  bestow  tender  care  and  pompous  honor  on  the 
perishable  casket  that  once  held  it! 

Nearly  fifty  yeais  have  passed  into  history  since  that 


124 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.’ 


mild  spring  day,  when  the  long  procession  passed  through 
the  streets  of  Cincinnati,  telling  in  its  mournful  march  of 
wounded  pride,  blighted  hopes,  broken  hearts,  and  agony 
unspeakable.  And  yet  so  indelibly  is  it  fixed  in  my  mem- 
ory that  it  seems  but  yesterday,  and  I find  it  hard  to  real- 
ize that  the  young,  gallant  officer  for  whom  our  hearts 
were  sore  that  day,  is  now  an  old  man,  with  white  hair, 
still  in  the  service  of  the  country  he  has  faithfully  served 
through  all  these  years,  holding  high  rank,  and  honored, 
respected  and  beloved  by  all  who  know  him.  The  father, 
mother,  sister,  and  very  many  of  the  nearest  relatives  and 
friends  of  the  dear  girl  have  passed  away.  Soon  all  who 
personally  knew  of  this  story  will  be  gone.  A simple  but 
appropriate  monument  to  the  memory  of  the  gallant  Sher- 
wood and  the  brave,  true  soldier,  who  gave  up  his  life  to 
protect  the  precious  body  from  mutilation,  was  erected 
where  they  fell,  and  may  still  be  standing  there,  but  that 
is  all  that  remains  to  tell  of  this  heartrending  incident  of 
the  bloody  war  with  the  Seminoles  in  the  Everglades  of 
Florida. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


FROM  our  pleasant  home  and  work  in  Cincinnati  we 
were  called  away  by  the  illness  and  death  of  Lieu- 
tenant C.  C.  Daveiss,  a brother-in-law  and  army  associate 
of  my  husband,  to  whom  he  left  the  care  of  his  family  and 
the  settlement  of  his  business.  He  had  resigned  his  com- 
mission in  the  army  a few  years  before,  and  had  settled 
on  a large  plantation  which  he  owned  near  La  Grange, 
Missouri,  and  Daveiss  Prairie,  as  it  was  called,  was  our 
home  for  two  years,  during  which  time  we  had  some  new 
experiences,  and  a fine  opportunity  to  study  a class  of 
people  entirely  different  from  any  former  associations. 
They  were  mostly  from  what  might  be  called  the  back- 
woods  of  Kentucky;  were  ignorant,  and  had  some  very 
crude  notions  of  the  world  at  large.  Nearly  all  of  them 
owned  a few  slaves,  raised  a great  many  hogs,  cultivated 
large  fields  of  corn,  and  were  content  with  a diet  of  corn 
breq.d  and  bacon,  varied,  during  their  long  summers,  with 
vegetables,  melons  and  honey,  all  of  which  were  very 
abundant.  They  had  some  cows  and  sheep,  and  some  fine 
horses,  which  enjoyed  unlimited  pasturage  on  the  succu- 
lent grasses  of  the  prairies.  They  made  their  own  cloth- 
ing from  the  wool,  spun  and  woven  at  home,  and  were  in 


126 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


a measure  independent  of  the  world.  They  were  reli- 
giously inclined,  and  had  preaching  every  Sabbath,  at 
some  accessible  point,  the  Baptist,  Methodist,  Presby- 
terian, and  Campbellite  preachers  alternating,  the  first 
named  denomination  being  the  most  numerous.  Among 
them  was  a stalwart,  powerful  preacher,  who  was  also  the 
owner  of  a fine  farm  and  a pretty  strong  force  of  negroes. 
He  was  held  in  high  esteem  for  his  great  natural  gifts, 
and  we  can  never  forget  the  meed  of  praise  accorded  him 
by  his  gentle,  adoring  wife,  when,  in  speaking  of  this 
mighty  man,  she  said,  with  exultation:  “ Mr.  L.  is  so  gifted 
that  he  never  has  to  study  his  sermons.  They  come  natu- 
rally to  him.  He  hardly  ever  looks  at  a book  from  Sun- 
day till  Saturday,  not  even  the  Bible!”  and  we  believed  her. 

The  houses  were  built  mostly  of  logs,  and  the  architec- 
ture was  of  the  most  primitive  style.  The  living  room 
was  furnished  with  one  or  more  beds,  a table,  and  strong 
home-made  hickory  chairs  with  painfully  straight  backs; 
and  it  was  customary  in  occupying  one  of  them,  to  lean  it 
back  against  the  wall  or  bed,  at  a convenient  angle,  put- 
ting the  feet  on  the  rounds;  and  this  fashion  made  it  the 
proper  thing  to  salute  a visitor  thus:  “How-d’y?  Walk 
right  in;  take  a cheer,  and  lean  back.”  One  of  our  neigh- 
bors, in  giving  her  ideas  of  a newcomer,  said*  “She’s 
smart  enough  ’s  fur  as  I know,  but  I don’t  reckon  she 
knows  much  about  manners,  for  when  I sot  down  on  a 
cheer  she  never  asked  me  to  lean  back." 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


127 


Soon  after  we  were  settled  at  Daveiss  Prairie,  a neighDor, 
hearing  we  had  taught  school  elsewhere,  called  to  see  me, 
and  opened  up  the  subject  of  education  with,  “ I’d  kind  o’ 
like  to  have  our  Reufow  larn  figgers;  he  takes  to  larnin 
the  prettiest  you  ever  see.  But,  law  sakes,  he  ain’t  nothin 
to  our  Pop.  Why,  Pop  can  read  ritin”!  I learned  subse- 
quently that  “our  Pop”,  a pretty  girl  of  eighteen  or  twenty, 
was  the  wonder  of  the  country  on  account  of  this  rare  ac- 
complishment, and  seeing  her  frequently  on  horseback, 
with  her  “ ridin-skeert ” tucked  about  her,  as  if  for  a journey, 
I inquired  one  day  if  she  had  any  special  calling,  and 
learned  that  she  rode  from  farm  to  farm,  as  her  services 
were  needed,  to  read  the  letters  received  by  the  different 
families  ; “and”,  my  informant  added,  “she  makes  a heap 
of  money,  too  ; I tell  you  Pop’s  smart.” 

Another  ambitious  mother  called  to  learn  if  I would 
teach  her  “ Sam  the  tables , so’st  he  can  measure  up  pota- 
toes and  garden  truck  handy,”  adding,  “it  ain’t  no  use  for 
girls  to  bother  much  with  figgers,  but  I see  Miss  Daveiss 
draw  in  a piece”  (into  the  loom)  “without  countin’  every 
thread,  so  you  may  just  let  Kitty  larn  enough  to  do  that-a 
way.”  Spending  an  afternoon  with  this  mother,  a good, 
sensible  woman  and  very  kind  neighbor,  I found  her  pre- 
paring the  wedding  trousseau  of  one  of  her  girls,  who  was 
to  be  married  the  next  week.  She  was  a good  girl,  a gen- 
eral favorite,  and  all  were  muchinterested  in  the  coming 
event.  In  the  course  of  my  visit  one  of  the  daughters  called 


128 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


out,  “ Lucy,  where’s  the  fine  needle?  you  had  it  last;”  and 
the  reply  came,  promptly,  “ I reckon  it’s  in  that  crack  over 
yon,  whar  I stuck  it  when  I done  clar’d  off  the  bed  last 
night;”  and  there  it  was,  sure  enough,  and  by  the  aid  of 
that  little  solitary  implement  some  delicate  ruffling  was 
hemmed,  and  the  bride  looked  very  pretty  and  bright  a 
few  days  later,  when  she  stood  beside  her  chosen  husband 
in  her  humble  home  and  promised  to  be  to  him  a good, 
true  wife;  and  when,  after  a bountiful  wedding  feast,  the 
happy  pair  mounted  their  horses,  and,  amidst  the  good 
wishes  and  congratulations  of  friends,  rode  away  to  the 
new  log  house  in  the  wilderness,  where  they  were  to  make 
a home.  I could  not  but  admire  these  simple  souls,  who 
knew  nothing  of  the  strife  and  turmoil  and  excitement  of 
the  outer  world,  and  required  so  little  to  make  them  happy. 

Besides  this  class  of  people  of  whom  I have  been  tell- 
ing, there  were  several  families  in  our  neighborhood  who 
were  well  educated  and  refined,  and  we  formed  lasting 
friendships  among  them.  It  may  be  that,  if  Missouri  had 
been  a free  State,  we  might  have  made  our  home  there, 
but  slavery,  even  as  exhibited  here  in  its  mildest  form, 
was  an  insuperable  objection,  and  when  my  husband,  hav- 
ing faithfully  discharged  his  trust,  felt  that  his  sister’s 
affairs  were  in  such  a state  that  she  no  longer  required  his 
aid,  we  bade  farewell  to  our  beloved  relatives,  to  our  dear 
friend  Richard  Garnett  and  others,  and  returned  to  Michi- 
gan, which  had  been  our  first  home  after  leaving  the  army. 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


129 


Here  we  remained  for  many  years,  much  of  the  time  in 
Ann  Arbor,  where  we  were  engaged  in  teaching,  and  where 
we  formed  many  warm  friendships,  and  became  much  at- 
tached to  the  beautiful  city,  which  has  taken  so  high  a 
rank  as  an  educational  center.  Our  school  was  large,  and 
comprised  a male  and  female  department,  in  the  former 
of  which  a number  of  young  men  were  prepared  for  the 
university.  Among  them  was  James  Watson,  who  became 
so  famous  as  an  astronomer,  and  who  from  the  first  aston- 
ished all  by  his  wonderful  facility  in  all  branches  of 
mathematics.  We  meet  now  and  then  some  of  our  old 
pupils,  middle-aged  men  and  women,  and  are  proud  to  see 
them  filling  their  places  in  the  world  as  good  wives  and 
mothers  or  useful,  earnest  men.  We  watched  the  growth 
of  the  University  of  Michigan  from  its  infancy,  and  re- 
joiced when  Chancellor  Tappan  took  it  in  hand  and  gave 
it  an  impetus  which  changed  its  status  from  an  academy 
to  a vigorous  go-ahead  college,  with  wonderful  possibili- 
ties. He  was  a grand  man.  It  was  a pleasure  and  an 
honor  to  know  him,  and  Michigan  owes  much  to  his  wise 
and  skillful  management,  which  brought  her  university  up 
to  the  high  position  it  occupies  to-day. 

We  loved  Michigan,  and  would  fain  have  lived  there 
always,  but  several  of  our  family  became  much  enfeebled 
by  the  malarial  influences  so  prevalent  at  that  time  in  the 
beautiful  peninsula,  and  we  felt  that  a complete  change  of 
climate  was  imperatively  necessary.  So,  bidding  a reluc- 


130 


“THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 


tant  good-bye  to  home  and  friends,  we  turned  our  faces 
towards  Minnesota,  in  the  hope  that  that  far-famed  atmos- 
phere would  drive  away  all  tendency  to  intermittent  fevers 
and  invigorate  our.  shattered  constitutions. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


IN  the  autumn  of  1856  our  family  removed  to  Long 
Prairie,  Todd  county,  Minnesota,  as  the  nucleus  of  a 
colony  which  was  to  settle  and  develop  a large  tract  of 
land,  purchased  from  government  by  a company,  some 
members  of  which  were  our  friends  and  relatives. 

The  weather  was  very  pleasant  when  we  left  our  Michi- 
gan home,  but  at  the  Mississippi  river  the  squaw  winter , 
immediately  preceding  Indian  summer , came  upon  us  with 
unusual  sharpness,  and  lasted  through  the  remainder  of 
our  journey.  We  were  to  cross  the  river  at  a little  hamlet 
called  “ Swan  River,”  and  our  plan  was  to  hire  convey- 
ances there  which  should  take  us  the  remaining  distance. 
But  on  arriving  at  this  point  we  found  a young  friend  who 
had  come  West  for  his  health,  and  was  acting  as  agent 
for  my  brother,  one  of  the  owners  of  the  purchase.  He 
was  on  a business  errand  and  not  well  prepared  to  take  us 
back  with  him,  but  as  we  learned  that  it  would  be  impossi- 
ble to  procure  transportation  for  two  or  three  days,  and 
were  extremely  anxious  to  reach  the  end  of  our  journey, 
he  decided  to  make  the  attempt.  We  made  the  transit  in 
small  skiffs  amidst  huge  cakes  of  floating  ice,  which 
threatened  to  swamp  us  before  we  reached  the  western 
shore,  and  our  fears  well  nigh  got  the  better  of  some  of 


132 


“THREE  score  years  and  ten.1 


us,  but  taking  a lesson  from  the  implicit  confidence  our 
dear  children  reposed  in  us,  we  rested  in  our  Heavenly 
Fathers  love  and  care,  and  so  passed  safely  and  trustingly 
over.  At  4 p.  m.,  we  struck  out  into  the  wilderness,  but 
the  roads  being  rough  and  our  load  heavy,  we  made  very 
slow  progress.  By  9 o’clock  we  had  not  reached  the  half- 
way mark,  but  by  way  of  encouragement  to  the  horses, 
and  in  consideration  of  the  tired,  hungry  children,  we  came 
to  a halt  and  improvised  a nocturnal  picnic.  It  was  cold, 
very  cold,  there  was  no  shelter,  no  light  but  the  camp-fire, 
and  yet  there  was  an  attempt  at  cheerfulness,  and  the 
entertainment  passed  off  with  some  degree  of  merriment. 

After  an  hour’s  rest  we  resumed  our  journey,  and, 
although  our  conveyance  was  an  open  wagon,  so  crowded 
as  to  be  very  uncomfortable,  especially  for  the  children, 
yet  we  did  the  best  we  could,  and  the  little  emigrants  bore 
the  journey  bravely  for  some  hours  longer.  But  when 
within  six  miles  of  our  destination,  just  beside  a deserted 
Indian  encampment,  our  horses  fairly  gave  out  and  would 
not  pull  another  inch.  So  a large  camp-fire  was  made;  a 
sort  of  shelter  constructed  of  branches  of  trees;  a Buffalo 
robe  laid  on  the  ground,  and  the  weary  travelers  found  a 
temporary  resting  place,  while  our  young  friend,  above 
alluded  to,  started  with  the  used-up  team  to  bring  us  help, 
if  he  could  reach  the  prairie.  I had  chosen  to  pass  the 
hours  of  waiting  in  the  wagon,  feeling  that  I could  better 
protect  my  dear  little  baby  in  this  way.  So  when  all  the 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


33 


tired  ones  were  still,  and  the  silence  only  broken  by  the 
crackling  of  the  burning  fagots,  the  occasional  falling  of 
a dry  twig  or  branch  from  the  bare,  ghostly  looking  trees 
about  us,  the  hooting  of  an  owl,  the  dismal  howlings  of  the 
wolves  in  the  forest,  I sat  there  looking  at  the  weary  forms 
so  illy  protected  from  the  cold,  thinking  of  the  little 
white  beds  in  which  my  dear  ones  were  wont  to  slumber 
peacefully  and  comfortably,  the  friends  whom  we  had 
left,  who  might  even  now  be  dreaming  of  us,  of  some  of 
the  farewell  tea  drinkings  by  cheerful  firesides  in  dear  old 
Ann  Arbor,  where  tender  words  had  been  spoken,  and  our 
prospects  in  a far  western  home  been  discussed  over  deli- 
cate, tempting  viands,  prepared  by  loving  hands;  and 
these  thoughts  kept  my  heart  warmed  and  comforted, 
albeit  I shivered  with  external  cold;  but  hugging  my  baby 
closer,  and  committing  all  to  the  care  of  Him  who  never 
slumbers  nor  sleeps,  I was  just  sinking  into  unconscious- 
ness when  a voice,  not  heard  for  a year  and  a half,  broke 
the  deep  stillness  with:  “How!  Nitchie!”  and  there  by 
the  flickering  light  of  the  fire,  I saw  our  eldest  son,  who 
had  left  us,  for  a trip  with  his  uncle  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains a mere  boy,  and  now  stood  before  us  in  size  a man. 
As  his  father  rose  to  his  feet,  he  exclaimed  in  an  agony  of 
joy:  “ Oh!  father,  is  it  you?”  and  he  fell  upon  his  father’s 
neck  and  wept,  and  his  father  wept  upon  his  neck.  Then, 
as  in  a dream,  I heard,  “Where’s  mother?”  in  an  instant 
he  stood  beside  me,  and  I was  sobbing  in  the  arms  of  my 
first-born,  my  well-beloved  son. 


134  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

Our  messenger  had  told  him  that  the  horses  had  given 
out  just  beside  an  Indian  encampment,  and  that,  unless  all 
haste  was  made,  the  load  might  be  carried  off.  So  the 
boy,  without  a moment’s  delay,  took  his  horses  and  came 
at  full  speed  to  save  the  goods.  Hence  his  first  salutation, 
greeting,  as  he  supposed,  a party  of  Chippewas. 

The  little  camp  was  all  alive  with  surprise  and  joyful 
excitement,  and  with  a hearty  appreciation  of  this  very 
good  practical  joke,  we  were  soon  in  motion  again,  wend- 
ing our  way,  with  lightened  hearts,  to  our  journey’s  end, 
which  we  reached  without  further  let  or  hindrance.  After 
a brief,  but  much  needed  rest,  we  opened  our  eyes  on  a 
calm  fair  Sabbath  morning,  and  our  new  home,  in  the  soft 
hazy  light  of  an  Indian  summer  sunrise  was  very  lovely. 
It  required  no  very  vivid  imagination  to  fancy  ourselves 
in  the  happy  valley  of  “ Rasselas,  Prince  of  Abyssinia,” 
and  it  seemed  to  me  impossible  that  any  one  could  ever 
desire,  like  that  discontented  youth,  to  leave  so  charming 
a spot.  The  term  prairie  is  a misnomer  in  this  case;  in- 
stead we  found  a beautiful  fruitful  valley  lying  between 
two  low  ranges  of  hills,  interspersed  with  groves  of  trees 
and  picturesque  lakes,  and  watered  by  a river  winding 
gracefully  through  its  whole  length.  It  had  been  the  seat 
of  the  Winnebago  Agency,  and  there  were,  still  standing, 
in  pretty  good  order,  a large  number  of  houses.  These 
buildings,  empty  though  they  were,  gave  the  idea  of  a 
settlement,  dispelling  every  thing  like  a feeling  of  loneli- 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


135 


ness  or  isolation.  On  our  way  to  our  new  home,  we  had 
purchased,  at  Dubuque,  ample  supplies  for  a year,  but, 
(the  steamboats  at  that  season  being  much  crowded), 
were  obliged  to  leave  them  with  our  household  goods  to 
follow,  as  we  were  assured  in  the  next  boat.  Resting  in 
this  assurance  and  being  supplied  for  the  present,  we  had 
no  anxiety  for  the  future;  we  knew  not  what  was  before 
us.  God  tenderly  “shaded  our  eyes,”  and  we  were  very 
happy  and  full  of  hope.  Prairie  hens  and  pheasants  were 
abundant  beyond  belief.  Our  boys,  standing  in  the 
kitchen  door,  could  frequently  shoot  as  many  as  we 
needed  from  the  trees  in  the  dooryard,  while  the  numer- 
ous lakes  in  the  vicinity  afforded  us  most  excellent  fish, 
such  as  an  epicure  might  have  envied  us.  Some  of  our 
family,  enfeebled  by  malarial  fevers,  and  the  ills  resulting 
from  them,  imbibed  fresh  draughts  of  health  and  life  with 
every  breath,  the  weak  lungs  and  tender  irritable  throats 
healed  rapidly  in  the  kindly  strengthening  atmosphere, 
and  hearts  that  had  been  sore  at  parting  with  dear  friends 
and  a beloved  home,  were  filled  with  gratitude  to  Him 
who  had  led  us  to  so  fair  and  lovely  a resting  place,  and 
we  mark  that  time  with  a white  stone  in  memory  of  His 
loving  kindness  in  thus  preparing  us  for  what  was  to  come. 

Early  in  December,  winter  came  upon  us  in  earnest; 
snow  fell  to  such  a depth  that  we  were  fairly  shut  out 
from  the  whole  world,  and  so  suddenly  as  to  find  us  un- 
prepared. It  was  difficult  and  almost  impossible,  on 


136  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

account  of  the  deep  snow,  to  procure  wood  sufficient  to 
keep  up  the  constant  fires  necessary  on  account  of  the 
intense  cold.  We  had  no  mail,  no  telegraph,  no  news 
from  our  supplies.  Yet  we  hoped  and  made  the  best  of 
our  situation.  Our  children,  who  had  read  “ Robinson 
Crusoe”  and  “Swiss  Family  Robinson,”  thoroughly  en- 
joyed this  entirely  new  experience,  and,  every  day  explored 
the  various  empty  houses,  returning  from  their  expedi- 
tions with  different  household  articles  left  by  the  former 
occupants  as  worthless,  but  which  served  us  a purpose  in 
furnishing  our  table  and  kitchen.  But  day  by  day  our 
temporary  supplies  lessened,  and  with  all  the  faith  we 
could  call  to  our  aid,  we  could  not  but  feel  somewhat 
anxious.  A crop  of  wheat  raised  on  the  place  the  preced- 
ing summer  had  been  stored,  unthreshed,  in  some  of  the 
empty  buildings,  and  this,  at  last,  came  to  be  our  only 
dependence.  The  mill  on  the  property  had,  of  course, 
been  frozen  up,  and  only  after  hours  of  hard  work,  could 
my  husband  and  boys  so  far  clear  it  of  ice,  as  to  succeed 
in  making  flour,  and  such  flour!  I have  always  regretted 
that  we  did  not  preserve  a specimen  for  exhibition  and 
chemical  analysis,  for  verily  the  like  was  never  seen  before, 
and  I defy  any  one  of  our  great  Minneapolis  mills  to 
produce  an  imitation  of  it.  The  wheet  was  very  smutty, 
and  having  no  machinery  to  remedy  this  evil,  all  efforts 
to  cleanse  it  proved  unsatisfactory,  but  the  compound 
prepared  from  it  which  we  called  bread , was  so  rarely 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


137 


obtainable,  as  to  be  looked  upon  as  a luxury.  Our  daily 
“ staff  of  life”  was  unground  wheat. 

A large  number  of  Chippewa  Indians  were  encamped 
about  us  most  of  the  time,  and  not  being  able  to  hunt 
successfully,  on  account  of  the  very  deep  snow,  were 
driven  to  great  extremity,  and  sometimes,  acting  on  the 
well  established  principle,  that  “self-preservation  is  the 
first  law  of  nature,”  broke  in  the  windows  of  our  extem- 
porized granaries,  and  helped  themselves  to  grain.  They 
were  welcome  to  it  under  the  circumstances,  but  in  ob- 
taining it  they  had  broken  in  the  windows,  and  had  mixed 
glass  with  it  to  such  an  extent  that  it  was  unsafe  for  food 
until  we  had  picked  it  all  over,  grain  by  grain.  This  pro- 
cess was  our  daily  occupation  and  amusement.  I distinctly 
recall  the  scene  in  our  dining-room,  when  all  the  available 
members  of  the  family  were  seated  around  a long  pine 
table,  with  a little  pile  of  wheat  before  each,  replenished 
from  time  to  time  from  the  large  heap  in  the  center, 
working  away  industriously,  conversing  cheerfully,  telling 
interesting  and  amusing  stories,  singing  songs,  never 
complaining,  but  all  manifesting  a feeling  of  gratitude  that 
we  still  saw  before  us  what  would  support  life,  for,  at 
least,  a while  longer;  and  taking  heart  and  strength  to 
endure,  in  the  hope  that  before  this,  our  last  resource  was 
exhausted,  we  should  receive  our  long  expected  supplies, 
which  were  somewhere  on  the  way  to  us.  This  wheat 
was  boiled,  and  eaten  with  salt,  the  only  seasoning  of  any 


138  “THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 

kind  we  had;  no  butter,  no  milk,  no  meat,  nothing,  and 
yet  we  never  can  forget  the  intense  relish  with  which  our 
children  partook  of  it,  one  of  them  remarking,  on  one 
occasion,  “Mother,  how  good  this  wheat  is;  I wish  you 
would  write  to  Ann  Arbor  and  tell  the  boys  there  of  it;  I 
don’t  believe  they  know.”  A little  child  was  teaching  us, 
and  the  amount  of  strength  and  comfort  imparted  to  us 
by  such  a manifestation  of  perfect  contentment,  gratitude 
and  trust  can  never  be  computed  in  words.  We  realized 
in  those  days,  as  never  before,  the  full  force  and  beauty 
of  the  Icelandic  custom:  living  in  the  midst  of  dangers 
seen  and  unseen,  these  people,  we  are  told,  every  morning 
open  the  outer  door,  and  looking  reverently  up  to  Heaven, 
thank  God  they  are  still  alive.  So  when  with  each  return- 
ing day  we  saw  our  children  safe  and  well,  our  first  feeling 
was,  gratitude  that  the  Eternal  God,  who  was  our  only 
refuge,  had  not  removed  from  underneath  us  His  ever- 
lasting arms. 

The  nearest  settlement  of  any  kind  was  “ Swan  River,” 
on  the  Mississippi,  but  we  were  so  completely  blockaded 
with  snow,  that  no  team  could  possibly  get  through.  Two 
or  three  times  during  thathnemorable  winter,  our  oldest 
son,  a boy  of  eighteen  years,  made  the  trip  on  snow-shoes, 
at  the  risk  of  his  life,  to  get  our  mail,  and  learn,  if  possi- 
ble, something  from  our  supplies.  The  round  trip  was  a 
three  days’  journey,  and  there  being  no  stopping  place  or 
house  of  any  kind  on  the  route,  he,  of  course,  was  obliged 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


139 


to  camp  out  one  night.  Our  anxiety  during  his  absence 
was  terrible,  and  we  remember  vividly  our  overpowering 
sense  of  relief,  when,  at  the  close  of  the  third  day,  long 
before  his  form  was  discernible,  some  familiar  song  in  his 
clear  ringing  tones,  broke  on  the  still  night  air,  to  assure 
the  dear  home  folks  he  was  safe  and  well.  Like  the  man 
whose  business  was  so  urgent  he  could  not  stop  to  rest, 
but  now  and  then  picked  up  a stone  and  carried  it  some 
distance,  then  threw  it  down,  and  went  on  relieved  and 
encouraged,  so  we,  when  we  laid  down  this  burden  of 
anxiety  felt  rested  and  better  able  to  bear  our  daily  trials. 

It  is  due  to  our  only  neighbors,  the  Indians,  to  say  that 
they  were  by  no  means  troublesome,  that  our  intercourse 
with  them  was  pleasant,  and  to  some  of  them  we  became 
much  attached.  A great  chiefs  wife  was  a frequent  visi- 
tor at  our  house,  her  little  son,  of  perhaps  eight  winters 
being  her  invariable  attendant.  On  one  occasion  having 
missed  a small  case-knife  of  rather  peculiar  formation, 
which  was  in  daily  use,  I ventured  to  ask  her  if  the  little 
lad  had  taken  it  to  their  wigwam,  it  occurred  to  me  he 
might  have  done  so,  innocently  to  show  to  some  of  his 
family,  in  whose  honesty  I had  implicit  faith.  The  old 
woman  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  and  with  a grace 
and  dignity  which  would  have  done  honor  to  the  mother  or 
the  Gracchi,  said,  in  all  the  expressiveness  of  her  native 
tongue:  “ The  son  of  Ne-ba-quum  cannot  steal!''  In  real 
admiration  and  reverent  contrition,  I laid  my  hand  on  the 


T40 


‘THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


injured  mother’s  shoulder,  and  explained  my  meaning. 
She  accepted  my  apology  fully  and  graciously,  giving  me 
her  hand,  in  token  that  my  error  was  condoned,  and  you 
will  readily  believe  it  was  never  repeated.  Through  all 
the  years  of  our  residence  at  Long  Prairie  she  and  her 
family  were  always  welcome  guests  at  our  house,  when  in 
their  wanderings  they  came  that  way,  and  when,  during 
our  late  war,  her  brave,  loyal  husband’s  offers  to  assist  us 
in  our  struggle,  were  contemptuously  scorned  by  one  of 
our  Generals,  and  the  mortified,  broken-hearted  old  chief- 
tain, unable  to  bear  up  under  such  an  insult,  went  to  the 
“happy  hunting  grounds,”  we  sincerely  mourned  the  loss 
of  our  staunch  and  honored  friend,  Ne-ba-quum. 

Some  time  in  January,  our  five  year  old  boy  was  very 
suddenly  seized  with  pleurisy  in  its  most  violent  form,  and 
for  hours  he  seemed  in  mortal  agony.  We  had  no  efficient 
remedies,  no  doctor  within  thirty,  perhaps  fifty  miles,  and 
to  complicate  matters,  I had  lain  down  sick  for  the  first 
time,  thoroughly  vanquished  by  fatigue  and  unusual 
exposure.  But  that  sickness  of  mine  had  to  be  postponed, 
and  we  fought  all  that  night  with  the  fearful  disease,  using 
vigorously  all  the  external  remedies  within  our  reach, 
cupping  the  dear  child  with  inexperienced  hands,  but 
prayerful  hearts,  leaning  entirely  upon  God,  who,  when 
we  cried  unto  Him  in  our  distress,  heard  and  mercifully 
regarded  our  cries.  The  acute  and  agonizing  symptoms 
of  the  attack  were  subdued,  but  lung  fever  supervened, 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  1 4 1 

and  for  four  weeks  our  dear  boy  lay  very  near  death.  His 
form  wasted,  his  hands,  through  extreme  attenuation,  be- 
came almost  translucent,  and  we  could  only  watch  and 
pray,  and  use  all  the  means  in  our  power  to  alleviate  his 
sufferings.  I recall  the  seasons  of  family  worship  around 
that  sick  bed,  when  we  were  drawn  so  near  the  All-pitying 
Father  that  we  could  talk  with  Him,  as  a man  talketh 
with  his  friend,  when  the  loving  Savior  made  us  feel  that 
He  was  near  us  to  sympathize  with  us,  and  the  Blessed 
Comforter  brooded  over  us,  and  spoke  peace  to  our  sor- 
rowing hearts,  so  that  we  could  say,  “Thy  will  be  done,” 
and  from  our  hearts  could  sing: 

“ III  that  God  blesses  is  our  good, 

And  unblest  good  is  ill; 

And  all  is  right,  that  seems  most  wrong, 

If  it  be  His  dear  will. 

“ When  obstacles  and  trials  seem 
Like  prison  walls  to  be  ; 

We’ll  do  the  little  we  can  do, 

And  leave  the  rest  to  Thee.” 

During  this  trying  time,  our  stock  of  candles  was 
nearly  exhausted,  and  our  weary  watchings  were  only 
lighted  by  a sense  of  God’s  presence.  So  with  our  hand 
on  the  dear  sufferer,  and  our  ear  attentive  to  his  breathing, 
his  father  and  I sat  beside  him,  lighting  our  candle  only 
when  absolutely  necessary,  and  felt  as  none  can  feel  until 
they  have  tested  it,  the  sustaining  grace  and  Infinite  love 
of  the  Blessed  Watcher,  who  never  slumbers  nor  sleeps. 


142 


“THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 


He  granted  us  sweet  thoughts  of  His  love  and  precious 
promises,  which  were  to  us  as  songs  in  the  night,  and 
under  the  shadow  of  His  wings,  our  hearts  were  kept  in 
perfect  peace.  Thanks  to  the  Great  Healer,  a change  for 
the  better  came,  and  then  occurred  a strange  thing,  that 
has  always  seemed  to  me  directly  Providential. 

During  a bitter  wind  and  blinding  snow  storm,  some 
snow  birds  took  refuge  in  our  wood-shed  and  were  caught 
by  the  Indian  boys.  At  the  suggestion  of  our  oldest  son, 
who  had  read  somewhere  the  story  of  a sick  child  and  her 
Canaries,  these  little  refugees  were  brought  into  the  nursery 
and  soon  became  perfectly  tame,  flying  all  about  the  sick 
boy’s  head,  lighting  on  his  hands,  and  amusing  and  resting 
him  wonderfully.  For  several  days  the  storm  continued, 
and  we  sheltered  the  little  creatures,  our  invalid  growing 
better  so  rapidly  as  to  excite  our  surprise.  But  at  last 
there  came  a mild  bright  day,  and  we  turned  them  out  to 
find  their  companions.  Why  was  it  that  they  flew  only  a 
few  rods  and  then  fell  dead?  To  us  it  seemed  that  these 
little  winged  messengers  had  been  driven  to  us  in  our  ex- 
tremity by  the  fury  of  the  storm  as  healing  agents,  and 
had  given  their  lives  for  our  child’s.  The  question  now 
arose,  where  shall  we  find  suitable  food  for  our  convales- 
cent? There  seemed  no  possible  help  for  us,  but  we 
believed  it  would  come.  One  morning  as  I sat  wondering 
how  this  would  be  brought  about,  my  dear  brother  came 
in,  and  handing  me  a fresh  laid  egg,  said:  “ I did  not 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


143 


know  there  was  a fowl  on  the  place,  but  it  seems  that  an  old 
superannuated  hen,  who  doubtless  has  lived  in  the  wheat 
all  winter  has  suddenly  been  aroused  to  a sense  of  her 
duty,  and  this  is  the  result.”  Had  the  golden  egg,  famous 
in  fable,  been  presented  in  his  other  hand  for  my  choice, 
it  would  have  been  to  me  no  better  than  a chip,  but  the 
treasure  he  brought  me  was  of  priceless  value,  and  I re- 
ceived it  gratefully  as  a gift  from  God.  It  furnished  a 
whole  day’s  nourishment  for  our  exhausted,  feeble  little 
boy,  and  for  three  days  he  was  supplied  in  the  same  way; 
then,  just  as  he  was  more  hungry  than  ever,  and  when  it 
was  evident  he  never  could  regain  his  strength  without 
nourishment,  the  supply  ceased.  We  waited  and  trusted, 
and  in  a day  or  two  our  son  found  a fine  pheasant,  which 
had  evidently  lost  its  way,  sitting  in  the  snow,  wondering, 
perhaps,  where  all  its  companions  were,  and  why  the 
berries  were  all  gone.  Where  it  came  from  we  never 
knew,  but  we  do  know  that  there  never  was  so  delicious  a 
bird  eaten.  It  was  reserved  for  the  sick  child,  but  a small 
piece  was  given  to  each  of  the  other  children,  and  not  one 
of  them  will  ever  forget  the  taste  of  that  precious  morsel. 
By  the  time  this  nutritious  supply  was  exhausted,  our 
invalid  was  so  much  better  as  to  be  able  to  do  his  share  of 
picking  over  wheat,  and  of  eating  this  simple  but  very 
healthful  diet. 

Soon  after  this  the  wheat  ran  low,  the  long  hard  winter 
had  told  upon  us  all,  and  we  seemed  to  need  more  sub- 


144 


‘THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN. 


stantial  food  as  we  had  never  needed  it  before.  Day  after 
day  we  managed  to  prepare  something  that  sustained  life, 
but  I had  a nursing  child,  and  supporting  myself  and  him 
too,  almost  solely  upon  a wheat  diet,  had  been  hard  on 
me  and  I was  much  exhausted.  We  did  not  lose  faith; 
the  spirit  was  willing,  but  the  flesh  was  growing  weak.  I 
sat  one  morning  after  our  simple  breakfast,  with  my 
precious  baby  in  my  lap,  wondering  on  what  I should  feed 
the  dear  ones  at  noon,  as  scarcely  anything  remained. 
The  children  were  full  of  glee  in  their  unconscious  igno- 
rance, and  I must  not,  by  a word  of  repining,  shake  their 
sweet  trust  and  faith.  Our  eldest  son  sat  near  me,  read- 
ing my  thoughts,  but  saying  nothing,  only  conveying  by  a 
loving  look  his  sympathy,  when,  suddenly,  a shadow 
darkened  the  window;  he  looked  up  quickly,  and  said: 
“ Mother,  look  there!”  I looked,  and  directly  at  our  door 
were  two  sleds  heavily  laden  with  our  long-looked  for 
supplies!  Then  came  the  first  tears  I had  shed  that  winter. 
I could  not  speak,  but  my  over-wrought  feelings  found  most 
salutary  relief  in  those  blessed,  grateful  tears.  There  was 
danger  that  the  powerful  reaction  would  overcome  me  en- 
tirely, but  very  soon  every  member  of  the  little  colony  knew 
that  relief  had  eome,  and  the  work  of  unloading  the  sleds, 
opening  boxes,  and  unheading  barrels,  was  carried  on  with 
such  ardor,  as  to  leave  no  chance  for  such  a result,  especi- 
ally as  we  learned  that  the  teamsters  had  had  no  breakfast, 
that  they  had  been  three  days  coming  28  miles;  had  been 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


145 


obliged  to  shovel  their  way  through  great  drifts,  a few 
rods  at  a time,  and  had  reached  us  thoroughly  worn  out 
and  exhausted.  Then  came  the  preparation  of  that  won- 
derful breakfast.  No  need  that  a priest  should  burn 
frankincense  and  myrrh,  sending  up  our  orisons  in  the 
smoke  thereof.  The  odor  of  that  frying  pork,  the  aroma 
of  that  delicious  coffee,  the  perfume  of  that  fragiant  tea 
went  up  to  heaven,  full  freighted  with  thanksgiving  and 
praise.  No  need  that  a President  or  Governor  should 
proclaim  a day  when  we  should  return  thanks  in  view  of 
God’s  great  goodness;  it  proclaimed  itself,  and  every 
human  being  within  our  reach  was  bidden  to  our  thanks- 
giving feast. 

Our  supplies  were  ample  and  varied,  and  3 o’clock  found 
a large  company  seated  around  a table  loaded  with  excel- 
lent, well-cooked  food,  of  which  all  partook  with  a gusto 
most  flattering  and  gratifying  to  the  cook,  who  was  glad 
to  retire  to  her  room  with  her  baby,  when  the  meal  was 
over  and  rest  on  her  laurels,  while  the  young  people 
danced  and  made  merry  in  very  gladness  of  heart. 

Night  closed  around  a little  settlement  of  thoroughly 
grateful,  happy  human  beings.  What  if  it  was  still  cold, 
and  there  must  yet  be  many  stormy  days?  No  fear  of 
suffering  or  starvation.  God  had  not  forgotten  us,  and 
we  should  never  cease  to  trust  Him.  I could  not  sleep 
for  very  joy,  and  the  delicious  sense  of  relief  from  anxiety 
on  the  score  of  providing  for  the  daily  meals.  I seemed 


146 


‘THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


to  see  in  the  darkness,  in  illuminated  letters,  “Jehovah 
Jireh ,”  and  felt  He  had  abundantly  verified  his  blessed 
promise.* 

In  due  time  the  days  grew  longer  and  warmer;  the 
snow  melted.  Large  flocks  of  wild  geese  passing  north- 
ward over  our  heads  assured  us,  with  their  unmusical  but 
most  welcome  notes,  that  the  long  winter  of  ’56  and  ’57 
was  over  and  gone.  The  ground  was  broken  up,  crops 
were  planted,  and  everything  gave  promise  of  a favorable 
season.  Our  home,  in  its  lovely,  fresh  robes  of  green,  was 
enchanting,  and  we  felt  that  the  lines  had  indeed  fallen 
unto  us  in  pleasant  places.  But  as  we  take  pleasant  walks 
through  our  happy  valley,  what  means  this  unusual  sound 
that  arrests  our  footsteps?  It  is  like  the  pattering  of  gen- 
tle summer  rain,  and  yet  the  sky  is  clear  and  cloudless; 
no  drops  fall.  What  can  it  be?  Ah!  see  that  moving  in 
the  grass!  We  stoop  to  examine,  and  find  myriads  of 
strange-looking  insects  hardly  larger  than  fleas.  They 
must  be — yes,  they  ar  young  grasshoppers.  And  now  may 


* Soon  after  this  great  deliverance,  the  Blackfoot  Indians  who  belonged  to  oar  lit- 
tle colony  became  discontented  and  homesick  for  their  hunting  grounds  among  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  made  their  preparations  for  an  exodus  so  secretly  that  we 
were  taken  entirely  by  surprise  when  one  evening  they  were  all  missing.  They  had 
taken  their  women  and  children  and  as  much  of  their  stuff  as  they  could  carry  on 
two  or  three  horses,  and  turned  their  backs  upon  us,  permanently,  as  they  supposed. 
Immediately  our  oldest  son  started  in  pursuit,  and  we  watched  him  with  a field- 
glass  as  long  as  we  could  see,  and  then  by  the  lights  he  struck  from  time  to  time,  as 
he  went  farther  and  farther  away,  to  enable  him  to  see  their  tracks  or  the  votive  of- 
ferings to  the  sun  which  they  had  placed  on  the  shrubs  and  bushes  by  the  wayside  as 
they  journeyed  westward.  At  the  close  of  the  second  day  he  found  them  encamped 
near  a stream  making  snow-shoes,  and  so  uncertain  as  to  their  route  to  the  home 
they  loved  and  pined  for,  as  to  be  somewhat  disheartened.  A few  persuasive  words 
from  the  lad,  who  understood  their  ways  thoroughly,  with  a promise  that  they  should 
return  to  their  mountains  when  the  warm  weather  came,  prevailed,  and  they  came 
back  to  the  Prairie  somewhat  subdued  and  not  a little  chagrined  at  their  failure. 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


147 


God  help  us!  for  we  are  powerless  to  arrest  their  depre- 
dations. Day  by  day  they  grew  and  increased,  until  they 
covered  everything;  fields  of  wheat  which  promised  a 
bountiful  harvest  were'eaten  up  so  completely  that  not  a 
green  blade  or  leaf  was  left;  gardens  were  entirely  demol- 
ished; screens  of  cloth  put  over  hot-beds  for  protection 
were  eaten  as  greedily  as  the  plants  themselves,  and  the 
rapidity  with  which  they  did  their  destructive  work  was 
amazing.  So  faded  away  all  our  hopes  of  raising  anything 
available  that  year,  and  we  watched  and  waited.  But  one 
bright  June  morning  there  was  a movement  and  an  un- 
usual sound.  We  rushed  to  see  the  cause,  and  beheld  our 
dire  enemy  rising  in  masses,  like  a great  army  with  ban- 
ners! They  passed  over  us,  making  our  home  for  a time 
the  “ land  shadowing  with  wings,”  and  finally  disappeared 
in  the  £outh.  With  lightened  hearts  and  willing  hands  we 
went  to  work,  replanted  some  things,  and  labored  thank- 
fully, hopefully  and  successfully  to  provide  for  the  next 
winter. 

The  experience  of  the  past  had  taught  us  much.  We 
felt  our  hearts  stronger  and  richer  for  its  lessons,  and  we 
all  look  back  on  that  memorable  time  as  something  we 
would  not  willingly  have  missed  out  of  our  lives,  for  we 
learned  that  one  may  be  reduced  to  great  straits,  may  have 
few  or  no  external  comforts,  and  yet  be  very  happy,  with 
that  satisfying,  independent  hcppiness  which  outward  cir- 
cumstances cannot  affect. 


CHAPTER  XVIII ; 


MALCOLM  CLARK. 

A FEW  years  ago,  Colonel  Wilbur  F.  Sanders,  Presi- 
dent of  the  Historical  Society  of  Montana,  justly 
claiming  my  brother  as  one  of  the  earliest  pioneers  of 
Montana  Territory,  requested  me  to  furnish  the  society 
with  a sketch  of  his  life,  feeling  that  without  it,  the  records 
would  be  incomplete. 

His  career  was  peculiar,  and  in  order  that  those  who 
come  after  us  may  have  a correct  account  of  it,  I insert 
here  the  substance  of  the  sketch  prepared  at  the  request 
of  Colonel  Sanders: 

My  brother  Malcolm  Clark  was  the  oldest  child  of  our 
parents  and  their  only  son.  He  was  born  July  22d,  1817, 
at  Fort  Wayne,  Indiana.  When  he  was  two  years  old  our 
home  was  at  Fort  Snelling,  where  we  remained  for  eight 
years.  He  was  a handsome,  bright-eyed,  brave  and  ven- 
turesome boy,  and  soon  began  to  develop  a very  decided 
taste  for  field  sports  of  all  kinds,  becoming  a ready  pupil 
and  prime  favorite  of  Captain  Martin  Scott,  widely  known 
as  the  veritable  Nimrod  of  those  days.  He  was  constantly 
running  risks  even  in  his  plays,  and  had  some  miraculous 
escapes.  But  his  fortitude  and  endurance  of  pain  were 
very  remarkable,  and  his  great  ambition  was  to  bear  him- 
self under  all  circumstances  like  a true  soldier. 


LIFE-I-ONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


149 


One  of  my  earliest  recollections  of  him  is  seeing  him 
mounted  on  his  beautiful  pony,  riding  without  saddle  or 
bridle,  his  arms  extended,  his  eyes  flashing,  and  his  soft 
brown  hair  waving  in  the  wind.  This  early  training  in 
daring  horsemanship  made  him,  as  all  who  knew  him  can 
testify,  a perfect  rider.  He  was  very  quick  to  resent  any- 
thing that  looked  like  an  imposition,  or  an  infringement 
of  his  rights,  it  mattered  not  who  was  the  aggressor.  On 
one  occasion,  during  the  temporary  absence  of  the  Sur- 
geon, he  fell  and  cut  his  mouth  so  badly  that  it  was  feared 
the  injury  might  be  very  serious. 

Colonel  Snelling,  who  had  some  knowledge  of  surgery, 
volunteered  to  repair  the  damaged  feature,  but  when  he 
attempted  to  use  the  needle,  Malcolm,  who  felt  he  was 
not  duly  authorized,  refused  to  let  him  touch  it,  shaking 
his  tiny  fist  in  his  face,  by  way  of  menace.  The  Colonel 
laughingly  retreated,  and  recommended  sticking-plaster, 
which  answered  an  admirable  purpose. 

A few  years  later  I assisted  the  Surgeon  in  dressing  a 
wound  which  Malcolm  had  accidentally  inflicted  on  his  own 
arm  with  a knife,  and,  although  the  operation  of  probing 
and  cleansing  it  was  perfect  torture,  he  submitted  to  it 
patiently  and  without  a sound  of  complaint. 

He  was  a loving,  affectionate  boy,  full  of  real  chivalry 
and  true  nobility.  Being  next  in  age,  I was  his  constant 
companion,  and  his  kind,  loving  consideration  of  me  is 
deeply  impressed  upon  me.  When  for  some  years  Cin- 


150  “three  score  years  and  ten.” 

cinnati  was  our  home,  he  attended  a classical  school  in 
that  city,  taught  by  Alexander  Kinmont,  a Scotchman, 
somewhat  celebrated  as  an  educator  of  boys,  and  by  his 
high  sense  of  honor  and  his  engaging  manners  he  endeared 
himself  to  his  teacher  and  fellow  pupils.  He  had  a real 
reverence  for  his  female  associates;  indeed,  his  ideas  of 
womanhood,  in  general,  were  very  exalted.  He  guarded 
me  most  sacredly  from  anything  which  might  offend  my 
sense  of  delicacy,  and  was  ready  to  do  battle  with  any  one 
who  spoke  slightingly  of  a lady. 

At  one  time  a young  school-mate  made  some  improper 
remarks  concerning  a young  girl  acquaintance  of  Mal- 
colm’s, who  bade  him  take  back  his  words.  On  his  refus- 
ing to  do  this,  my  brother  seized  the  fellow,  who  was 
larger  and  stouter  than  he,  and  gave  him  a pretty  severe 
punishment,  receiving  himself,  however,  a bad  cut  on  his 
head  from  falling  on  a sharp  stone.  But  neither  the  pain 
of  his  wound  nor  the  rebukes  of  his  friends  could  make 
him  feel  that  he  had  done  anything  more  than  justice,  and 
he  bore  his  sufferings  with  the  spirit  of  a knight  who  had 
been  wounded  in  defense  of  his  “ faire  ladye.”  While  at 
school  he  manifested  a marked  talent  for  public  speaking, 
and  took  the  highest  rank  in  elocution  in  the  Kinmont 
Academy,  and  I think  that  all  through  his  life  this  gift  of 
eloquence  gave  him  a power  over  those  with  whom  he 
mingled.  I recall  distinctly  my  sisterly  pride  in  him 
when  at  an  exhibition  he  delivered  that  wonderful  speech 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


15 


of  Marc  Antony  over  the  dead  body  of  Caesar;  and  when 
the  terrible  news  of  his  tragical  death  reached  me,  I seemed 
to  hear  again  th-e  infinite  pathos  of  his  voice  in  the  words, 
“And  thou,  Brutus!”  The  man  who  treacherously  took 
his  precious  life  had  been  to  him  as  a son,  had  shared  his 
home,  and  received  from  him  nothing  but  favors.  Well 
might  he  have  exclaimed,  “And  thou,  Ne-tus-cho!”  as  e’en 
under  the  protecting  shadow  of  his  own  home  the  brave 
man  fell,  pierced  by  the  deadly  ball.  At  seventeen  he 
was  entered  at  West  Point,  where,  owing  to  his  early  mili- 
tary associations  and  training,  he  stood  well  as  a capable, 
well-drilled  soldier,  and  was  soon  put  in  command  of  a 
company.  In  this  capacity  he  acquitted  himself  in  such 
a way  as  to  win  the  approval  of  his  superior  officers  and 
the  confidence  of  his  fellow  Cadets. 

But  one  of  his  company,  who  had  been  derelict  in  duty 
and  had  been  reported  accordingly,  accused  him  of  mak- 
ing a false  report,  and  this  in  those  days  was  an  accusation 
not  to  be  borne.  Consequently  my  impetuous  brother, 
with  a mistaken  sense  of  honor,  fostered  by  the  teachings 
and  usages  of  fifty  years  ago,  sent  the  young  man  a chal- 
lenge. Instead  of  accepting  or  declining  it,  he  took  it  to 
the  Commandant,  thus  placing  himself  in  a most  unfavor- 
able light. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  roll-call  my  brother 
stepped  out  before  his  company,  and,  seizing  his  adver- 
sary by  the  collar,  administered  to  him  a severe  flogging 


152 


‘THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN. 


with  a cowhide.  This,  of  course,  was  a case  that  called 
for  a court-martial,  the  result  of  which  was  my  brother's 
dismissal,  the  sentence,  however,  recommending  him  to 
mercy.  It  was  intimated  to  him  by  some  high  in  author- 
ity that  by  making  proper  concessions  he  would  be  rein- 
stated. This  he  would  not  do,  and  took  the  consequences. 

In  the  light  of  the  great  improvement  in  public  senti- 
ment with  regard  to  such  matters,  the  young  man’s  course 
must  be  condemned,  but  great  allowance  must  be  made 
for  the  code  of  honor  in  force  at  that  time,  and  nowhere 
so  strenuously  insisted  on,  as  in  military  circles.  Several 
duels  had  been  fought  between  the  officers  at  Fort  Snell- 
ing  while  that  was  our  home,  and  Malcolm  had  heard  with 
delight  and  awe  of  the  prowess  of  his  hero,  Captain  Scott, 
who,  as  already  narrated  in  these  records,  had  soon  after 
his  appointment  in  the  regular  army  given  a final  quietus 
to  a young  West  Point  officer  who  had  snubbed  and  in- 
sulted the  Green  Mountain  boy,  whose  career  opened  in  a 
volunteer  regiment  in  the  war  of  1812,  instead  of  at  the 
Military  Academy.  These  influences  account  for,  and  in 
a great  measure  excuse  my  rash  brother’s  conduct  in  this 
affair.  We  deeply  deplored  this  event,  which  changed 
the  whole  tenor  of  his  life;  and  yet,  there  lies  on  my  table 
as  I write,  his  defense  before  the  military  tribunal,  and  I 
confess  to  a thrill  of  pride  as  I read  the  manly,  fearless, 
yet  thoroughly  respectful  and  courteous  document,  and  I 
feel  very  sure  that  a most  efficient,  high-minded  officer 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


153 


was  lost  to  the  service,  when  my  brave,  true  brother  suf- 
fered the  penalty  of  a boyish  folly. 

Soon  after  this  he  started  for  Texas  to  join  the  desper- 
ate men  there  in  their  struggle  for  independence. 

During  his  journey  to  the  “ Lone  Star”  State  a charac- 
teristic incident  occurred  which  may  be  worthy  of  men- 
tion. On  the  voyage  from  New  Orleans  to  Galveston,  the 
Captain  of  the  ship  refused  to  keep  his  agreement  with 
his  passengers  in  regard  to  furnishing  ice  and  other  abso- 
lute necessaries,  thus  endangering  their  health  and  mak- 
ing their  situation  thoroughly  unendurable.  After  unsuc- 
cessful efforts  to  bring  the  Captain  to  reason,  my  brother 
took  command  himself,  placed  the  Captain,  heavily  ironed, 
in  close  confinement,  and  thus  landed  in  Galveston.  Then 
he  released  his  prisoner,  and  repaired  immediately  to 
General  Sam  Houston’s  quarters  to  give  himself  up  for 
mutiny  on  the  high  seas.  His  story  had  preceded  him, 
and,  on  presenting  himself,  the  President  exclaimed : 
“What!  is  this  beardless  boy  the  desperate  mutineer  of 
whom  you  have  been  telling  me?”  And,  after  inquiring 
into  the  affair,  feeling  thoroughly  convinced  that,  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  self-defense,  my  brother’s  conduct  was 
justifiable,  dismissed  him,  with  some  very  complimentary 
remarks  on  his  courageous  behavior.  The  young  hero 
was  loudly  cheered  by  the  populace,  and  borne  on  their 
shoulders  in  triumph  to  his  hotel. 

He  soon  after  received  a commission  in  the  Texan  army, 


154  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

where  he  served  faithfully  till  the  war  was  ended,  and 
then  returned  to  Cincinnati,  at  that  time  our  widowed 
mother’s  home. 

While  in  the  Southwest,  he  was  one  day  riding  entirely 
alone  through  a wilderness,  in  some  part  of  Texas,  I 
think,  wheu  he  saw  in  the  distance,  riding  directly  towards 
him,  his  old  West  Point  antagonist,  who  had  so  far  lost 
caste  at  that  institution  as  to  be  obliged  to  resign  about 
the  time  of  my  brother’s  dismissal.  He  had  learned  that 
Malcolm  was  in  the  country,  whither  he  also  had  drifted, 
and  had  threatened  to  take  his  life,  if  ever  he  crossed  his 
path.  My  brother,  knowing  of  this  threat,  of  course,  con- 
cluded that  when  he  met  his  enemy  there  would  be  a 
deadly  encounter.  Both  were  heavily  armed;  Malcolm 
had  two  pistols,  but  had  discharged  one  at  a prairie  hen 
a short  time  before,  and  had  forgotten  which  one  was  still 
loaded.  It  would  not  do  to  make  investigations  in  the 
very  face  of  his  foe;  so  with  his  hand  on  one  of  them,  and 
his  keen  eye  firmly  fixed  on  the  man,  he  rode  on,  deter- 
mined not  to  give  one  inch  of  the  road.  Thus  they 
approached  each  other,  neither  yielding;  my  brother’s 
steady  gaze  never  relaxing,  till  just  as  their  mules  almost 
touched  one  another,  his  enemy  gave  the  road,  and 
Malcolm  went  on,  feeling  that  very  probably  his  foe  would 
shoot  him  from  behind,  but  never  looking  back,  till,  by  a 
turn  in  the  road,  he  knew  he  was  out  of  sight,  when  he 
drew  a long  breath,  and  felt  that  he  had  been  in  a pretty 


LIFE-LONG'  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


155 


tight  place.  The  next  news  he  had  of  his  adversary  was, 
that  he  had  been  killed  in  a drunken  row  in  some  town  in 
Texas. 

Failing  to  find  in  Cincinnati,  business  congenial  to  his 
taste,  my  brother  obtained,  through  our  father  s life-long 
friend,  Captain  John  Culbertson,  an  appointment  in  the 
American  Fur  Company,  and  went  to  one  of  their  stations 
on  the  Upper  Missouri.  At  this  time  he  was  just  twenty- 
four  years  old;  at  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  fifty-two, 
so  that  more  than  half  his  life  was  spent  in  the  Indian 
country.  The  story  of  his  life  in  the  Far  West  is  full  of 
incident.  Soon  after  his  arrival  in  the  Blackfoot  country 
he  won  the  name  of  Ne-so-ke-i-u  (the  Four  Bears),  by  kill- 
ing four  Grizzlies  one  morning  before  breakfast,  which 
remarkable  feat  gave  him  high  rank  in  the  estimation  of 
the  tribe.  How  he  traded  successfully  among  these 
Indians,  in  all  cases  studying  their  best  interests;  how  he 
came  to  be  looked  upon  as  a great  and  powerful  chief; 
how  he  identified  himself  with  them  by  marrying  among 
them;  how,  by  his  deeds  of  daring,  his  many  miraculous 
escapes,  his  rare  prowess  and  skill,  and  his  wonderful 
personal  influence  over  them,  he  obtained  the  dignity  of  a 
“ Medicine  Man,”  in  whom  they  professed  implicit  faith 
and  confidence,  are  facts  well  known  to  all  who  knew  him. 

And,  how,  when  the  eager,  grasping  whites  encroached 
upon  their  territory,  seeing  before  them  the  fate  that  had 
befallen  all  the  other  tribes  among  whom  white  settle- 


156  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

ments  had  been  opened  up,  these  Indians  feared  that  this 
man,  whose  hair  had  whitened  among  them,  would  take 
part  with  his  own  people  against  them,  and  made  a foul 
conspiracy  against  his  life,  treacherously  stilling  the  heart 
that  had  beat  with  kindness  and  affection  for  them,  are 
grievous  facts  in  the  history  of  his  beloved  Montana,  on 
which  I need  not  and  cannot  dwell. 

In  sketching  the  record  of  this  life  from  early  childhood 
to  its  tragic  ending,  I seem  to  see  again  before  me  my 
beautiful,  bright-eyed  brother,  a boy  of  whom  I was  very 
proud,  and  who  was,  to  me,  the  embodiment  of  everything 
brave,  and  manly,  and  true.  I follow  him  in  his  eventful 
life,  and  while  I realize  that  his  impetuosity  sometimes 
led  him  to  do  things  which  were  not  wise,  and  which  he 
afterwards  regretted,  yet  above  all  these  errors  and  mis- 
takes, rises  the  memory  of  his  unswerving  integrity;  his 
fidelity  to  his  friends;  his  high  sense  of  honor,  between 
man  and  man;  his  almost  womanly  tenderness  towards 
those  whom  he  loved;  his  rare  culture  and  refinement;  his 
affable,  genial  and  courteous  manners;  his  hospitality  and 
large-heartedness, — all  entitling  him  richly,  to 
“ Bear  without  abuse, 

The  grand  old  name  of  gentleman.” 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


LONG  PRAIRIE  was  our  home  for  five  years  which 
though  not  unmixed  with  trial  and  sorrow,  were 
happy  years.  Some  few  neighbors  settled  in  and  around 
the  Prairie,  and  the  visits  of  lumbering  and  surveying 
parties,  passing  to  and  fro,  made  a pleasant  variety  in  our 
simple  life.  We  were  directly  on  the  route  over  which 
the  Indians,  both  Sioux  and  Chippewas  travelled  as  they 
went  for  game  or  scalps;  but  they  behaved  themselves 
circumspectly,  except  when  bad  white  men  crept  into  the 
settlement  and  made  them  crazy  with  “fire  water.”  This 
infamous  traffic  we  resisted  to  the  extent  of  our  power, 
and  on  one  occasion  blood  was  drawn  on  both  sides,  but 
no  lives  were  lost.  We  always  treated  the  Indians  well, 
dealing  fairly  with  them  as  with  white  men,  and  they 
looked  upon  us  as  their  friends.  At  one  time,  however, 
rumors  of  danger  warned  us  to  take  measures  to  insure  our 
safety;  and  we  applied  to  Floyd,  then  Secretary  of  War, 
for  military  protection,  the  result  of  which  step  was,  that 
some  soldiers  were  quartered  at  the  Prairie  for  the  winter 
of  ’58  and  ’59,  and  we  dismissed  our  fears.  Captain 
Frederick  Steele  and  Lieutenant  Joseph  Conrad  were  the 
officers  in  command  01  the  detachment,  and  proved  most 


158  “three  score  years  and  ten.” 

agreeable  neighbors,  making  our  winter  very  enjoyable. 
The  former  of  these,  our  friends,  was  a General  during 
the  war  of  the  Rebellion,  and  lost  his  life  in  the  service; 
the  latter,  now  a Major,  is  still  doing  good  service  as  a 
gallant  and  efficient  soldier. 

The  next  winter  we  had  the  protection  of  Lieutenant 
Latimer  and  his  company  from  Fort  Ridgley,  a most 
genial  and  whole-souled  Southern  gentleman,  who  en- 
deared himself  to  us  by  his  frank  kindly  manners  Gen. 
Irwin  McDowell,  inspecting  officer,  made  us  a charming 
visit  during  this  winter,  and  by  his  kindly,  unassuming 
manner,  won  all  hearts,  while  his  splendid  form  and  manly 
beauty  made  an  impression  on  us  never  to  be  effaced.  He 
survived  the  war,  but  died  in  the  prime  of  life,  sincerely 
mourned  by  a large  circle  of  friends  and  fellow  soldiers. 

Possibly  we  might  have  spent  our  lives  at  Long  Prairie, 
but  for  the  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter,  on  the  eventful 
12th  of  April,  1861,  whose  vibrations  thrilled  the  whole 
North,  and  reaching  us  in  our  pastoral  home,  changed  en- 
tirely our  plans  and  purposes.  When  our  youngest  boy 
was  twenty-four  hours  old,  his  father  went  to  St.  Paul,  in 
obedience  to  a summons  from  Governor  Ramsey,  and  was 
soon  after  commissioned  Colonel  of  the  “ 2d  ” Regiment 
of  Minnesota  Volunteers,  which  was  rendezvoused  at  Fort 
Snelling  for  thorough  organization  and  drill.  As  soon  as 
possible  his  family  joined  him  there,  and,  once  again  my 
temporary  home  was  in  the  old  Headquarters,  and  in 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


159 


memory  I live  my  childhood  over  again.  The  few  weeks 
spent  there  were  full  of  excitement  and  pleasant  incidents, 
but  over  all,  hung  the  dark  shadow  of  the  dreadful  civil 
war,  and  hearts  ached  sorely,  in  spite  of  the  brave  talk 
and  smiling  faces.  Writing  of  those  days  I recall  a picture 
of  the  parade  ground  at  the  time  of  the  sunset  drum:  the 
men  are  placed  by  companies,  the  officers  in  proper  posi- 
tion; many  visitors,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  stand  near;  the 
drum  beats,  the  flag  is  lowered;  and,  as  the  Chaplain  steps 
forward,  every  head  is  uncovered,  and  he  offers  the  even- 
ing prayer  to  the  God  of  battles.  I am  glad  they  prayed; 
did  they  think  of  this  when  they  gained  the  victory  in 
that  first,  fierce  battle  at  Mill  Spring?  And  there  are 
those  living,  who  will  recall  that  sad  parting  hour, 
when  those  brave  men  said,  “ Good-bye,  and  God  bless 
you,”  to  their  mothers,  wives  and  children,  and  went  forth 
with  tearful  eyes,  and  quivering  lips  to  hazard  their  lives 
for  their  country.  It  was  a holy  cause,  and  the  women, 
too,  were  brave,  and  would  not  hold  them  back,  but 
entered  willingly  upon  that  sad,  weary  time,  when  tears 
were  shed  till  the  fountains  were  dry;  when  prayers  and 
groanings  that  could  not  be  uttered,  arose  to  heaven  by 
day  and  by  night,  alike  from  luxurious  homes,  and  from 
humble  cottages,  for  the  safety  of  the  beloved  ones,  and 
the  success  of  the  sacred  cause.  The  children  felt  it,  too. 
A little  curly-headed  seven  year  old  boy,  whose  father  was 
at  the  front,  waking  one  night  from  troubled  sleep,  stole 
softly  to  hiS  mother’s  bedside,  and  kissing  her  tenderly, 


i6o 


"THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 


said,  in  a voice  broken  with  sobs:  “ Mother,  did  you  pray 
for  father  to-night?”  She  replied:  " Yes,  my  son,  mother 
never  forgets  that.”  “ But,  mother,  are  you  sure?”  "Yes, 
dear  one.”  "Well,  mother,  won’t  you  kneel  down  here 
by  me,  and  pray  for  him  again?”  and  side  by  side,  the  two 
knelt  humbly,  the  mother  with  her  arms  about  the  sob- 
bing boy,  while  she  prayed  most  earnestly  for  the  precious 
one  far  away.  Then,  the  dear  child  ceased  his  weeping, 
and  kissing  " mother”  for  herself  and  " father,”  lay  down 
to  sleep  again,  saying:  " Mother,  I don’t  think  God  will 
let  the  Southerners  kill  father.”  And  thus  it  was  all  over 
the  North.  Mothers  and  children  weeping  and  praying, 
and  working,  to  keep  the  home  bright  and  comfortable  for 
the  soldier  when  he  should  come  back.  And  many  fair, 
smooth  faces,  grew  pale  and  seamed  with  care  and 
anxiety,  many  brown  heads  turned  to  gray,  and  erect 
forms  became  bent  as  with  years  ; and,  alas!  many  hearts 
broke  when  the  list  of  " dead  and  wounded  ” reached  the 
Northern  homes.  Oh!  history  makes  record  of  the  heroes 
who  fell  fighting  bravely,  and  of  those  who  survived;  of 
great  deeds  of  daring  done  and  suffering  endured;  but 
there  were  heroes  who  won  no  stars,  who  received  no 
ovations,  whose  histories  were  never  written,  and  who> 
none  the  less  were  martyrs  to  their  country. 

“But  men  must  work, 

And  women  must  weep; 

Though  storms  be  sudden  and  waters  deep; 
nd  the  harbor-bar  be  moaning.” 

But  God  gave  us  the  victory  and  our  beloved  country, 
aye,  the  whole  world  has  made  a forward  move  because 
of  our  heart-breaking,  agonizing  Civil  War. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


AFTER  the  breaking  up  at  Long  Prairie,  a few  months 
were  spent  by  our  family  in  St.  Paul,  but  in  the  early 
spring  it  seemed  expedient  to  remove  to  “ St  Anthony,” 
which  has  ever  since  been  our  home.  It  was  at  that  time 
a very  quiet  village;  very  many  of  the  young  and  vigor- 
ous men  were  at  the  front,  and  business  was  at  a stand- 
still; property  was  very  cheap,  and  real  estate  men  had 
little  or  nothing  to  do.  Minneapolis,  on  the  west  side  of 
the  river,  was  a small  town,  and  had  any  one  predicted  at 
that  time  that  the  city  of  Minneapolis  would  one  day  be- 
come what  it  is  now,  he  would  have  been  regarded  as  a 
lunatic.  The  Indian  outbreak  of  ’62  stirred  things  up  for 
a while,  but  that  passed  away,  and  the  place  resumed  its 
sleepy  condition,  waking  up  now  and  then  at  the  news  of 
a victory,  or  on  the  occasion  of  the  return  of  a regiment, 
to  whom  an  ovation  was  tendered,  when  it  became  mani- 
fest that  there  was  a great  deal  of  energy  and  power  latent 
in  the  community,  which  only  needed  an  occasion  to  bring 
it  out.  But  the  immense  water  power  kept  up  its  music, 
the  mills  ground  flour  and  sawed  logs  and  made  paper, 
and,  all  unconsciously,  we  were  growing  great  and  prepar- 
ing to  become  the  wonder  of  the  world.  When  the  old 


162  “three  score  years  and  ten.” 

settlers  get  together  novv-a-days,  we  like  to  talk  of  those 
pleasant,  quiet  times,  when  a ride  in  a stage  to  St.  Paul 
was  a treat,  and  a trip  to  Minnetonka  in  a double  wagon, 
with  provisions  and  camp  fixtures  for  a week’s  picnic,  was 
delightful;  when  we  caught  fish  in  Lake  Harriet  and 
cooked  it  at  our  camp-fire,  and  had  a most  enjoyable  time 
rowing  on  the  lake,  gathering  pond  lilies,  singing  songs, 
telling  stories,  and  taking  in  with  every  breath  the  deli- 
cious, invigorating  air  of  that  most  charming  spot. 

And  while  rejoicing  at  the  present  state  of  things,  so  far 
in  advance  of  those  times,  we  sometimes  look  back  re- 
gretfully at  the  days  when  we  seemed  like  one  large 
family,  with  common  interests,  and  we  involuntarily 
breathe  a sigh  for  those  simple,  primitive  pleasures,  that 
will  be  ours  nevermore. 

No  need  for  me  to  describe  in  these  humble  records  the 
phenomenal  growth  of  Minneapolis;  it  is  known  and  read 
of  all  men,  and  the  world  is  startled  at  its  rapid  transition 
from  a somewhat  obscure  manufacturing  town  to  a great 
and  prosperous  city,  whose  foundations  are  so  solid,  and 
whose  possibilities  so  great,  that  there  seems  no  limit  to 
its  progress.  We  who  have  watched  it  from  infancy  are 
justly  proud  of  our  city,  and  it  is  certainly  cause  for  con- 
gratulation that  so  much  time  and  thought  and  money  are 
given  to  establishing  and  fostering  benevolent  institutions 
and  charities  of  all  kinds.  The  people  are  large-hearted 
and  ready  to  take  hold  of  anything  which  has  for  its  ob- 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  163 

ject  the  good  of  the  community  or  the  amelioration  of 
suffering  in  any  form.  Witness  our  “ Home  for  Children 
and  Aged  Women;”  the  beautiful  “Washburn  Home  for 
Orphans;”  the  “Northwestern  Hospital,”  built  by  and 
under  the  care  and  management  of  women  who  have  been 
generously  aided  by  the  community  in  carrying  on  their 
work;  the  “Bethany  Home”  for  fallen,  outcast  women 
and  deserted  babies,  a work  established  by  women  in 
weakness  and  under  discouraging  circumstances,  but  now 
carried  on  in  a commodious  building  erected  by  one  man 
who  has  lived  many  years  in  our  city  and  has  grown  rich 
here.  He  has  watched  our  work  in  this  line  for  years,  and 
his  heart  was  moved  to  donate  to  the  management  of  the 
“Home”  the  beautiful,  convenient  house  and  grounds  on 
Bryant  avenue,  which  shelters  sad  and  broken-hearted 
women  and  tender,  helpless  infants,  and  stands  out  clear 
against  the  beautiful  background  of  woodland  and  blue 
sky,  an  enduring  monument  to  his  large-hearted  gener- 
osity and  his  tender  pity  for  the  weak  and  helpless.  May 
God  bless  him  and  deal  graciously  with  him  and  all  he 
loves.  These  are  only  a few  of  the  various  branches  of 
work  for  the  good  of  humanity,  generously  encouraged  by 
our  citizens,  and  the  liberality  with  which  societies,  con- 
ventions and  gatherings  of  all  kinds  are  welcomed  and  en- 
tertained by  Minneapolitans  astonishes  all  who  see,  read 
or  hear  of  it.  Those  who  saw  the  great  Villard  procession 
and  the  meeting  of  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Republic  can 


164  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

never  forget  them,  and  religious  bodies  of  all  sects  and 
kinds  who  have  been  received  and  cared  for  here,  are  loud 
in  their  praises  of  their  hospitable  entertainers. 

But  better  than  all  this  is  the  earnest  desire  that  we 
should  become  good,  as  well  as  great,  as  manifested  in  the 
numerous  active  societies  organized  for  the  purpose  of 
overcoming  and  suppressing  the  evils  incident  to  large 
and  prosperous  cities;  and  the  eloquent,  earnest  men  of 
all  religious  denominations  who  labor  faithfully  as  preach- 
ers and  pastors  for  the  highest  good  of  the  people  are 
doing  grand,  efficient  work  towards  the  accomplishment 
of  this  desire. 

And  side  by  side  with  us,  a little  way  down  the  river,  is 
our  beautiful  twin  sister,  the  city  of  St.  Paul,  to  which  by 
the  power  of  mutual  attraction  we  are  growing  nearer  day 
by  day.  The  healthy  rivalry  which  has  existed  between 
us  since  we  began  to  grow  has  benefited  both  cities,  and 
we  now  stand  before  the  world  phenomenal  in  growth, 
each  year  lengthening  our  cords  and  strengthening  our 
stakes,  with  the  sure  prospect  of  becoming,  in  the  near 
future,  a mighty  metropolis  of  the  great  and  powerful 
Northwest. 

The  tender  friendships  formed  there  by  our  family  dur- 
ing the  early  days  of  the  war  grow  stronger  and  more 
binding  each  year,  and  will  last  through  eternity;  our 
children  will  tell  to  their  children  of  the  kindness  ren 
dered  by  dear  ones  in  St.  Paul  to  “father  and  mother”' 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  165 

when  they  were  in  sore  need  of  loving  sympathy,  and  this 
legacy  of  love  will  be  very  precious  to  them.  I love  to 
visit  this  neighboring  city,  not  only  because  of  the  warm 
friendships  existing  between  us,  but  because  that  in  some 
indescribable  way  it  seems  to  have  an  army  atmosphere 
which  makes  me  feel  entirely  at  home.  And  sometimes, 
when,  in  passing  through  its  streets,  I come  upon  our  old, 
staunch  friend,  General  R.  W.  Johnson,  the  thoughts  of  Fort 
Snelling,  where,  years  after  it  ceased  to  be  my  home,  he 
won  the  beautiful  Miss  Steele  for  his  bride,  stir  my  heart 
with  pleasant  memories,  and  looking  at  him  now,  a hand- 
some, white-haired  man,  still  erect  and  vigorous,  I feel 
that  time  has  dealt  very  generously  with  him,  and  rejoice 
that  after  his  many  years  of  faithful  service  to  his  country 
he  is  still  doing  his  duty,  and  is  most  happily  situated  in 
every  respect.  And  there  is  General  Bishop,  one  of  my 
husband’s  “boys”  of  the  brave  Minnesota  Second,  the 
very  sight  of  whose  kindly  face  brings  up  thoughts  of 
Mill  Spring  and  other  battle  fields  on  which  he  won  his 
“eagle”  and  his  “star,”  and  it  gladdens  my  heart  to  feel 
that  he,  too,  still  in  his  prime,  is  as  brave  and  faithful  a 
civilian  as  he  was  a soldier,  and  that  he  has  a beautiful, 
hospitable  home,  which  is  a rallying  point  for  the  surviv- 
ors of  the  old  regiment,  which  he  loved  so  well  and  com- 
manded so  successfully.  And  there  are  many  other  mili- 
tary men  there,  whom  it  is  an  honor  to  know,  and  who, 
with  the  energy  which  made  them  successful  soldiers,  are 


l66  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

working  earnestly  for  the  good  of  St.  Paul,  where  they 
have  made  their  homes. 

When  the  beautiful  Edith,  searching  the  field  after  the 
bloody  battle  of  Hastings,  found  the  body  of  her  beloved, 
the  last  of  the  Saxon  Kings,  she  saw  right  over  his  heart, 
as  she  wiped  the  blood*  from  his  wounded  side,  two  words 
graven  thereon:  “Edith,”  and  beneath  it  “ England.”  So 
on  my  heart,  among  my  precious  things,  stands  “ Minne- 
apolis,” and  just  beneath  it  “St.  Paul.”  God  bless  them 
both  and  make  them  truly  good,  as  well  as  eminently 
great. 


CHAPTER  XXL 


LOOKING  over  the  quarter  of  a century  that  we  have 
lived  quietly  and  happily  in  our  Minneapolis  home, 
I recall  some  very  pleasant  satisfying  incidents,  notably  a 
visit  made  by  my  husband  and  myself  to  the  lovely  home 
of  our  only  daughter,  in  Honolulu,  the  capital  of  the  Ha- 
waiian Kingdom.  We  were  both  enfeebled  by  sickness 
and  He  who  has  been  so  gracious  to  us  all  our  lives,  know- 
ing we  had  need  of  such  a change,  provided  for  it  in  an 
unexpected  way.  We  left  our  home  early  in  December, 
1878  under  the  care  of  our  son-in-law  and  daughter,  and, 
journeying  in  the  comfortable  Pullman  cars,  took  in  the 
wonders  and  beauties,  so  often  described,  of  the  overland 
route  to  San  Francisco. 

It  is  needless  for  me  to  tell  you  of  these  wonders. 
Many  travelers  have  so  descanted  upon  them  as  to  make 
them  familiar  to  all,  and  yet  no  words  can  ever  do  them 
justice;  they  must  be  seen  to  be  comprehended.  Com- 
prehended did  I say?  Ah!  that  can  never  be;  they  over- 
whelm and  fill  us  with  awe,  make  us  very  quiet,  and  incline 
our  hearts  to  silent  worship  of  Him  whose  “works  are 
manifold,  and  who,  in  wisdom,  hath  made  them  all.”  As 
this  magnificence  unrolls  before  us  like  a grand  panorama, 


168  “THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 

the  deep,  dark,  rocky  canons;  the  high,  snow-capped 
mountains,  sometimes  blue  and  far  away  like  a wondrous 
picture,  with  a back  ground  of  clear  cloudless  sky;  the 
immense  plains,  with  no  signs  of  life,  broken  here  and 
there  by  gigantic  rocks  of  most  weird  fantastic  shapes; 
the  picturesque  villages,  with  their  church  spires,  distinct 
and  well-defined  against  the  high  overhanging  mountains, 
all  combine  to  carry  us  out  of  ourselves,  and  to  make  us 
not  only  wonder  and  adore  the  wisdom  of  God,  but  admire 
the  skill  and  energy  of  man,  which,  by  God’s  help,  has 
opened  up  these  grand  pictures,  and  enabled  us  to  see  and 
enjoy  them. 

Very  early  on  the  morning  of  our  last  day’s  ride,  we 
rounded  “Cape  Horn,”  and  halted,  as  is  the  custom,  for 
all  to  have  a sight  of  that  masterpiece  of  the  Great  Arch- 
itect. The  mist  still  lay  in  the  deep  gorge  and  on  the 
mountain  sides,  and  all  was  perfect  unbroken  silence. 
Without  a word  we  gazed  enraptured  on  the  glorious 
scene,  and  waited,  as  if  expectant  of  some  royal  presence, 
to  fill  this  magnificent  throne  of  God’s  own  building. 
And  as  we  look,  behold  the  heralds  ! And  now  the  King 
of  Day  himself,  in  his  chariot  of  flame,  comes  forth  over 
the  mountain-top,  “as  a bridegroom  coming  out  of  his 
chamber,  and  rejoicing  as  a strong  man  to  run  a race.” 
At  his  presence,  the  mists  roll  away;  the  mountain  sides 
appear  in  all  their  rugged  beauty;  the  American  River, 
like  a silver  thread,  down  deep  in  the  mighty  gorge,  smiles 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING.  l6g 

brightly  at  the  coming  of  the  king,  and  accepting 
graciously  its  appointed  task,  “goes  on  and  on  forever.” 

That  day’s  ride  was  the  perfection  of  enjoyment,  full  of 
wonder  and  beauty,  and  just  as  we  reached  the  terminus, 
the  great  monarch  whose  rays  had  illumined  our  path 
all  the  way,  sank  gloriously  to  rest  in  the  “Golden  Gate,” 
rendering  our  first  view  of  the  mighty  ocean  unspeakably 
grand. 

After  spending  ten  days  very  pleasantly  and  satisfac- 
torily in  the  great  metropolis  of  the  Pacific  coast,  our 
party  of  four  embarked  on  the  United  States  mail  steam- 
ship, “ City  of  Sydney,”  for  the  beautiful  Hawaiian  Islands, 
two  thousand  miles  away,  in  the  midst  of  the  sea,  which 
we  reached  in  the  remarkably  short  time  of  a little  less 
than  seven  days,  having  made  the  quickest  trip  on  record. 
Our  voyage  was  most  prosperous,  and,  with  the  exception 
of  two  days  of  rough  weather  at  the  outset,  very  pleasant. 
The  ship  is  a fine  one,  all  its  appointments  being  every- 
thing that  could  be  desired.  The  company  was  intelligent 
and  agreeable.  Our  party  was  happy  in  the  anticipation 
of  seeing  dear  ones  in  Honolulu,  and  in  the  near  realiza- 
tion of  what  had  been,  to  some  of  us,  a beautiful  dream 
for  years.  And  were  we  disappointed?  Oh,  no!  No 
picture  of  our  imagination  had  ever  been  so  bright,  so 
beautiful  as  that  spread  out  before  us,  as  our  gallant  ship 
sailed  majestically  through  the  coral  reef  into  the  beauti- 
ful harbor  of  Honolulu.  It  was  like  entering  a new  world; 


170 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


everything  was  bright  with  tropical  splendor.  The  moun- 
tains*^ whose  hearts  had  slumbered  volcanic  fires,  which, 
from  time  to  time,  had  burst  forth,  lighting  up  the  great 
ocean  with  Tartarean  brilliancy,  and  scattering  red-hot 
lava  far  and  wide,  now  stood  up  in  sublime  composure, 
like  ramparts  of  protection  to  the  lovely  island  formed  by 
the  upheaval. 

The  tall  cocoa-nut  palms,  crowned  with  their  feathery 
tufts;  the  rich  foliage  of  the  various  trees;  the  gorgeous 
blossoms;  the  picturesque,  gaily-dressed  natives  in  their 
arrowy  canoes,  with  luscious  fruits,  or  specimens  of  coral, 
shells,  and  other  treasures  of  the  deep;  the  innumerable 
little  bronze  figures  darting  in  and  out  of  the  water  for 
bits  of  coin  thrown  to  them  from  the  deck;  and,  above  all, 
the  dear  ones,  with  happy  faces  and  eager,  outstretched 
hands,  awaiting,  with  loving  impatience,  the  moment  of 
our  landing,  formed  a tableau,  which,  illumined  by  the 
soft,  glowing,  dreamy  atmosphere,  made  a photograph  in 
my  memory  which  time  nor  distance  can  ever  efface. 
Our  ride  through  the  city,  up  the  Nu-u-an-u  valley,  was 
one  continued  surprise  and  wonder,  a bright  vision,  from 
which  we  surely  must  awaken  to  sober  reality. 

We  knew  that,  by  the  almanac,  it  was  the  last  day  but 
one  of  the  old  year,  midwinter,  a time  of  frost  and  snow, 
and  surely  these  brilliant  oleanders,  these  great  scarlet 
geraniums,  these  bright  hedges  of  the  many-colored 
Lantana  were  but  a fairy  scene  which  might  vanish  anv 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


71 


moment  and  leave  the  trees  bare  and  the  flowers  withered. 
But  when  we  entered  the  charming  grounds  about  our 
children’s  home,  where  we  were  to  spend  some  months, 
resting  and  gaining  health  and  vigor,  we  were  fain  to 
believe  that  it  was  all  real,  and  that  we  should  sit  day  after 
day  on  the  broad  veranda,  and  look  at  the  royal  palms, 
the  graceful  algeroba,  the  wide-spreading  umbrella  trees, 
the  truly  regal  bougainvillia,  with  its  wealth  of  purple 
blossoms,  the  Mexican  vine,  covered  with  rose -colored 
sprays,  the  soft  velvet  turf,  and  the  exquisite  ferns,  and 
we  thanked  God  that  he  had  brought  us,  safely  and  hap- 
pily, to  so  beautiful  a haven.  Everything  about  us  was 
so  charming  a suggestion  of  Paradise,  that  even  now, 
after  the  lapse  of  many  years,  the  memory  of  the  six 
months  spent  in  that  gem  of  the  Pacific,  comes  to  us 
freighted  with  a sense  of  sweetness  and  peace  that  savors 
of  the  rest  of  Heaven. 

The  society  of  Honolulu,  representing  many  different 
nationalities,  is  exceptionally  intelligent  and  cultivated. 
The  climate  is  simply  perfect,  the  mercury  ranging  from 
6o°  to  8o°  the  year  round;  delicious  fruits,  lovely  flowers 
and  spice  bearing  shrubs  abound.  The  soil  is  very  fertile 
and  favorable  to  the  production  of  the  best  of  sugar  cane, 
a high  grade  of  coffee  and  excellent  rice,  which  are  the 
staple  productions  and  a source  of  great  profit  to  the 
islands.  A most  nutritious  and  satisfying  vegetable 
universally  cultivated  there,  is  the  Taro,  which  is  to  the 


172  “THREE  score  years  and  ten.” 

native  Hawaiian  what  the  potato  is  to  the  Irishman. 
Poverty  is  unknown  there,  every  one  has  a competence, 
some  are  wealthy.  Education  is  compulsory,  churches 
and  school  houses  are  numerous,  and  in  every  way  ade- 
quate to  the  needs  of  the  community.  The  reigning 
King,  Kalakaua,  is  not  as  wise  and  strong  as  Solomon, 
and  for  many  years  has  been  in  the  hands  of  an  intriguing 
Cabinet,  which  has  been  a source  of  anxiety  to  those  who 
love  the  little  kingdom,  and  desire  to  see  it  prosper,  but 
it  is  very  gratifying  to  be  able  to  state,  that  the  evils  so 
much  dreaded  have  been  entirely  averted,  and  the  gov- 
ernment placed  in  a better  condition  than  it  has  enjoyed 
for  many  years.  This  was  brought  about  in  a proper  and 
orderly  way,  by  the  decisive  action  of  the  law-abiding 
citizens,  who  have  formed  an  entirely  new  Cabinet,  altered 
for  the  better  the  Constitution,  and  established  a limited 
monarchy.  This  change  took  place  only  a few  months 
ago,  and  already  its  beneficial  effects  are  clearly  manifest. 
The  prospects  for  the  islands  were  never  better,  and  it  is 
sincerely  to  be  hoped  by  all  who  wish  well  to  the  human 
race  that  Hawaii-nei  may  long  continue  to  prosper  in  every 
way,  and  to  send  light  and  gladness  to  the  peoples  of  the 
insular  countries  which  are  scattered  like  lovely  gems  all 
over  the  beautiful  blue  ocean. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


THE  GOLDEN  WEDDING. 

IN  the  month  of  March,  1886,  we  sent  to  our  many  friends 
far  and  near  the  following  invitation,  and  the  hearty 
response  which  we  received  made  March  22d  a day  never 
to  be  forgotten  by  ourselves  and  our  children: 

Lieutenant  Horatio  Phillips  Van  Cleve,  U.  S.  A., 
and 

Charlotte  Ouisconsin  Clark , 

MARRIED 

March  22d,  i8?6, 

Fort  Winnebago , Michigan  Territory. 


General  and  Mrs.  H.  P.  Van  Cleve , 

AT  HOME 

March  2 2d,  1886, 

603  Fifth  Street  S.  E., 

From  3 until  10  o'clock  P.  M. 

No  presents. 

The  weather  seemed  as  if  made  for  the  occasion,  the 
sun  shone  brightly  till  its  setting,  and  the  old  house, 
which  has  been  our  home  so  long,  that  we  all  love  it,  in 
spite  of  its  old-fashioned  appearance  and  its  entire  lack 
of  style,  was  fitly  prepared  and  adorned  by  loving  hands. 


174 


“THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 


A thatched  roof  over  the  bay  window,  prettily  arranged, 
bearing  on  its  front  the  dates  “1836”  and  “1886”  in  car- 
nations of  two  colors,  made  a canopy  under  which  the  old 
man  and  woman  were  to  sit  and  receive  the  congratula- 
tions of  their  friends.  Over  the  mantel,  opposite  them, 
were  arranged  the  battle  flags  of  the  beloved  Second 
Regiment  of  Minnesota  Volunteers,  with  the  sword  and 
sash  and  insignia  of  rank  of  its  Colonel,  who  led  them  into 
battle,  and  the  house  was  tastefully  draped  with  the  “stars 
and  stripes  ” and  many  beautiful,  significant  emblems  sent 
by  friends  and  children.  A beautiful  bank  of  fifty  golden 
rosebuds  on  a background  of  green,  baskets  of  lovely,  fra- 
grant flowers,  one  of  orange  blossoms  from  Oakland,  Cali- 
fornia, a pot  containing  a tall  Bermuda  lily  with  two  large 
blossoms  and  several  buds,  and  many  bouquets  of  rich, 
rare  flowers  gave  to  the  reception-room  a brightness  and 
loveliness  which  cannot  be  fitly  described.  At  3 o’clock 
the  survivors  of  the  old  regiment  came  in,  under  command 
of  our  dear  friend,  General  J.  W.  Bishop,  of  St.  Paul,  bring- 
ing hearty  congratulations  to  their  old  Colonel,  and  after 
a short  time  spent  in  a pleasant  converse,  the  General,  in 
a most  appropriate  address  presented  to  him,  whom  they 
honored,  an  elegant  gold-headed  cane,  bearing  the  inscrip- 
tion: “Presented  to  General  H.  P.  Van  Cleve  by  surviv- 
ing members  of  the  Second  Regiment,  Minnesota  Veteran 
Volunteer  Infantry,  Golden  Wedding,  March  22,  1886.” 
This  was  a perfect  surprise,  and  the  gift  was  acknowledged 


LIFE-LONG  MEMORIES  OF  FORT  SNELLING. 


75 


in  a few  fitting  words.  After  a pleasant  chat  of  old  war 
experiences  and  some  light  refreshments  the  veterans 
said  “ good-bye  ” and  departed,  leaving  very  grateful, 
pleasant  thoughts  in  the  hearts  of  those  whom  their  pres- 
ence had  honored  and  made  glad.  Another  surprise 
awaited  us.  Our  little  grandchild  Pauline  Van  Cleve,  a 
year  and  a half  old,  side  by  side  with  her  cousin  Rebecca, 
a few  months  older,  toddled  up  to  “grandma”  and  pre- 
sented her  with  a cluster  of  fourteen  golden  rosebuds,  one 
for  each  grandchild,  and  our  granddaughter  Charlotte  Van 
Cleve  recited  very  sweetly  “The  Old  Man  and  His  Bride,” 
by  Dr.  Holland.  Many  sweet  poems  and  loving  letters 
from  friends  far  and  near,  and  many  valuable,  beautiful 
presents  from  dear  ones,  testified  their  love  and  kind  re- 
gard for  us,  and  are  treasured  by  us  among  our  most  pre- 
cious things,  to  be  highly  valued  by  our  children  when  we 
shall  have  passed  away.  Cake  and  coffee  were  served 
through  the  evening,  the  fruit  cake  being  baked  in  the  same 
pan  which  was  used  fifty  years  before,  when  I,  a girl  of  six- 
teen, made  my  “wedding  cake.”  It  has  been  in  constant 
use  ever  since,  and  is  a plain  affair  which  shows  the  marks 
of  time,  but  which,  with  ordinary  care,  will  last  through 
at  least  another  generation. 

Our  friend,  Rev.  Dr.  Neill,  spoke  to  us  in  his  usual  felic- 
itous manner,  and  his  address  was  full  of  pleasant  remin- 
iscences. Our  pastor,  Rev.  Dr.  Stryker,  recited  a poem 
composed  by  himself  for  the  occasion,  and  the  evening 


176  “THREE  SCORE  YEARS  AND  TEN.” 

passed  most  enjoyably,  and,  with  many  wishes  that  we 
might  keep  our  diamond  wedding,  our  friends  bade  us 
“ good  night  ” and  went  their  several  ways. 

Then  came  to  us  a full  realization  that  we  had  walked 
beside  each  other  half  a century,  and  our  thoughts  went 
back  to  the  old  quarters  at  Fort  Winnebago,  where  side 
by  side  we  stood  in  the  freshness  of  youth,  with  life  all 
before  us,  and  promised  “ to  have  and  to  hold  from  this 
day  forward,  for  better  for  worse,  for  richer  for  poorer,  in 
sickness  and  in  health,  to  love  and  cherish  each  other  till 
death  us  do  part,”  and  as  we  looked  into  each  other’s 
eyes,  heart  answered  to  heart,  “We  have  kept  our  vows.” 

“And  looking  backward  through  the  years 
Along  the  way  our  feet  have  pressed, 

We  see  sweet  places  everywhere — 

Sweet  places,  where  our  souls  had  rest. 

For  though  some  human  hopes  of  ours 
Are  dead  and  buried  from  our  sight, 

Yet  from  their  graves  immortal  flowers 
Have  sprung,  and  blossomed  into  light. 

Our  sorrows  have  not  been  so  light, 

God’s  chastening  hand  we  could  not  trace; 

Nor  have  our  blessings  been  so  great 
That  they  have  hid  our  Father’s  face.” 

And  we  thanked  Him  that  He  “ had  mercifully  ordained 
that  we  should  grow  old  together.”  And  now,  laying 
down  my  pen,  I say  to  all  who  have  followed  me  through 
these  memories:  “Good  night,  dear  friends.  God  bless 
you  every  one.” 


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